Fractured
by holls-h
Summary: A nightmare reminds Bucky of a past truth that he can't begin to cope with it, while his husband Steve is doing everything he can to hold him together.
1. Nightmare

When he woke, it was like it always was. The shock of coming out of his cryostasis chamber didn't disappear immediately, though he was always frustrated by how long it took to get back to normal, not knowing if the repeated freezings were damaging his brain or body. He was too weak to move still, he couldn't stand or do much more than wait for someone to come drag him somewhere else. It took him a while off the ice before he regained his strength and faculties, something which seemed to frustrate the men that controlled him, or the ones who were paying for him to kill who he needed to. He didn't know if it was going to be longer or shorter than usual this time, though he hoped for the latter, it bothered him to feel so helpless, more so than he remembered feeling in the past, though he didn't entirely know why.

"They want him moved now."

"He can't even hold his head up."

"He doesn't need to for this."

His eyes parted and everything was blurred, but his hearing was sharp enough to pick up that there were three men in the room with him, and he knew basically where they were. Something was wrong with their voices, though, they didn't sound right. Something about how they were speaking, they were speaking Russian, but it wasn't right, it was distorted somehow. The feeling of dread was growing as two of the men moved to drag him out of the cryo chamber, wrapping his nearly limp arms over their shoulders to lift him up and out. He knew he was about to get wiped, that always came next, and it was painful being strapped down to that device only to have his mind and memories decimated by blasts of electricity. That was likely where the fear deep in his stomach was coming from, no amount of times on that thing were going to make it easier on him.

"Not that way. This way."

He felt himself being dragged away from the chamber, his eyes flickering around to look around as he tried to focus on something familiar, anything that would wake his sight up. They were going through a door now, he could hear it creak on it's hinges, it wasn't a sound he remembered in the past, maybe he'd shut it out, or it had been another memory taken from him. He never forgot the Memory Suppressing Machine, though. As many times as they'd used it, he remembered what was coming after he woke up. That had to explain the fear that was slowly taking him over, but he didn't remember feeling like that before. He stared forward, waiting to emerge from the tunnel into the familiar light of the room where he was about to be put through agonizing pain, but the corridor didn't end where it should, they were still in the dark. And there were voices up ahead, more than he could count at the moment.

"There he is, fashionably late." The others chuckled at that man's joke, he spoke like the guards too. Something really wasn't right, his brain was trying to tell him something. He wasn't sure if he was remembering what the man said correctly, it was all jumbled in his head, and the more he tried to remember, the more it slipped away.

It wasn't English, was it?

"Take him to the table. Strap him down."

Table? Why was that sending such terror coursing through him? This wasn't the machine, this was something else, something his stomach was telling him was much worse. He just wanted to get out of here, he was going to listen to his instinct and get the fuck out of there. Weakly, he tried to get on his own feet, pull his arms away from the two men supporting him, but he wasn't ready to stand on his own just yet. He couldn't fight them, he was still helpless, but he'd only be so weak for so long, then he could try to break out, at least not make this easy on whoever was doing this. He'd never successfully stopped them from doing anything to him, but he'd never felt more desperate than he did now.

He could see something in front of him, it looked like a solid metal block from floor to his waist with parts extending from the top, his eyes only really able to see what they were when he got closer. There were metal and leather ties and loops that he could just barely make out, the straps thick and heavily were secured to the surface of the table, whilst the metal seemed to be built right into it. It was meant to hold something strong from many points, he knew it was meant for him now that he was standing over it. It wasn't the Memory Suppressing Machine, this was worse somehow, and he still didn't know why. They weren't going to give him answers if he tried to ask, though, he was a thing, not a person, and he had no rights over himself or what happened to him. He just had to shut up and do what he was told as always, there wasn't much fight in him to do anything but what he was asked.

Getting bent over roughly, his arms were restrained, first by a couple leather cuffs and then metal ones as his wrists, forearms, and above his elbows. Pushing his head down, the men put a heavy collar onto his neck, hooking it up to the table with thick metal cables attached to locks. At his feet, more shackles came forth from the metal table, binding him from ankle to knee so he couldn't begin to move at all. He still felt weak from coming out of his frozen chamber, and his confusion was keeping him complacent through all this. All he could do was face forward now, he couldn't even turn his head, the most he could do was look out his still blurred peripheral vision as his hands bound against the edges of the table.

His left hand, the metal one, he could feel something at the edge of the table with his index finger, a dent in the edge of the table. No, not a dent, more of a groove that got deeper as it came towards his hand, one his finger fit in perfectly. There were similar grooves next to it, one a little further to the left from the middle two, and as he spread his hand out, his fingers slipping into the furrows easily. Slowly closing his hand, he followed the depressions until his fingers settled in the deeper part of the indentation.

And then he remembered what this was.

"No...no…" he whispered, starting to tremble before he began to try to struggle out of his bonds, panic giving him more strength, his brain lifting out of the fog of being unfrozen now. He still couldn't see, he didn't know how many people were in the room around him, but he could hear enough voices, he could hear them speaking different languages, mumbling to each other low enough that he couldn't pick up what they were saying. He wanted to scream at them, tell them to stay the hell away from him, but before he could, a gag was secured around his face, the ball pressing past his lips silencing him. Crying out, his desperation muffled, as his heart ached in his chest, gripping the table in the grooves, where he had all the times before this one.

"Men, have your proof of payment out and ready, you're not taking your turn without it."

"Best money I've spent. Here you go."

"You know the rules. You all know the rules, men? Go ahead and mark him, pull his hair, whatever you want, just keep your hands off all the restraints. I have a sedative ready in case he gets too energetic."

"Leave the sedative, I like a bit of a fight."

His eyes were wide as he felt an icy hand wrap it's fingers around his heart, squeezing harder with each footstep he heard coming up behind him. He could barely think, every cell in his body wanted to rip off the table and beat these men to death as painfully as he could, but as much as he strained and fought, he couldn't break free from his shackles. He was still too weak, he needed more time and then maybe he could bust out of here, but he knew there was a sedative waiting for him the second he started making a scene. This wasn't how their soldier was supposed to behave, but then again, this wasn't a situation many soldiers found themselves in. He couldn't fight, he couldn't even move, and as he felt two hands roughly pull his pants down around his ankles, he made a desperate noise around the gag in his mouth, begging anyone in that room to step forward and do something to help him. They weren't there to save him, though, they were just like the man behind him, they were there for something more than that, their own turns with him.

Hydra's little whore.

"Now you fight all you want, I'll love making you regret it. Your ass is all mine."

Pleasedon'tlethimtouchmepleasedon'tlethimtouchmeohgoddon'tlethimtouchme….

"I'm going to enjoy making you bleed."

PLEASE!

He sat up with a gasp, his hand flying instinctually to cover his mouth before rushing out of the bed he shared with his husband to the adjoining bathroom, barely getting the door closed before he dropped to his knees and emptied his stomach into the toilet. Gasping between violent retches, he felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was drowning, his hands shaking so hard as they gripped the sides of the bowl that he could hear them beating rapidly against the porcelain. Falling back onto his ass, he continued to struggle to catch his breath, feeling like he was going to pass out if he didn't get more than the few gasps that he'd managed to get through. He couldn't even think, it was like he'd been shocked again, his brain felt empty of all thoughts except the last words he'd heard in his dream, and the memories that they unlocked.

Shaking all over, he weakly crawled over to the shower, dragging himself inside the stall and reaching up to the taps, turning only the cold one to full before he leaned back against the glass wall. Not bothering to remove the boxers and t-shirt he'd slept in, he didn't react as the freezing water began to rain down on him, his head slumped forward, eyes focused on the small black tiles that covered the floor. That dream, it hadn't been a dream, he remembered that now as clearly as he remembered everything else, and now that that door in his head was open, more and more memories of being strapped down to that table flooded out. It was if his mind was purging everything it struggled to hold back for so long, and tonight that dam broke, and Bucky felt like he was drowning.

It all seemed to bleed together, and all he could hear in his head were their voices telling him what they were going to do to him and exactly what he was to them. He could feel their hands, their mouths, on him, leaving their marks behind for someone else to add to later. He couldn't see the men, all he could do was stare forward, he could only see the flash of their cameras documenting what they paid good money for, a souvenir for later reference. He felt contaminated, filthy, and used, and as desperate as he was for the shower to start washing that away, the stains permeated deep into his skin, through his blood stream, just spreading through him until everything he and the people closest to him have done, that small garden of happiness just beginning to grow in his heart, burned and withered away into dust.

He wasn't meant to be happy. He should have died when he fell off that train, it would have saved countless lives and spared him a lot of pain. All he'd done was bring conflict and stress into the life of the person he loved most in this world, he'd be better off without him, with pretty much absolutely anybody else. His beloved husband would be free from dealing his problems, his nightmares, his anxiety, and all the other bullshit that came along with having his mind ripped apart and reprogrammed so many times. And now he had this to add to the pile of issues, and he doubted he could keep it hidden around people that knew him so well. He couldn't admit to it either, though, he couldn't look them in the eye and tell them he made money for Hydra because some asshole let rich perverts fuck him, he didn't want their pity, or their disgust. There's no one who could be more revolted, who could hate him more than he hated himself right now.

"Buck?" He heard his voice over the sound of the shower, he could hear the worry in it. There weren't too many good reasons for a man to take a shower at three thirty in the morning, of course something had to be up.

"Steve…" Bucky started, not sure what to say, knowing it couldn't be the truth. Instead, he just leaned his cheek against the shower wall, the freezing water running from his hair down his face in small rivulets, wishing it would freeze him so he didn't have to deal with this any more. "I'm fine, Steve…"

"Bullshit," Steve opened the door, having removed the lock off it because of Bucky's episodes, and stepped into the bathroom, a little confused about the lack of steam in the room considering the shower was running. Going over to the stall, he looked through the door Bucky had neglected to close behind him, frowning when he saw his husband sitting on the floor, getting soaked in the clothes he went to sleep in.

"It's nothing, just another bad dream," Bucky sighed, not moving an inch from where he was curled up in the corner of the shower. He technically wasn't lying to Steve, which made him feel better, but he was dreading having to talk about what he was feeling. Why couldn't he just ball it up and let it rot inside him like everything else? Why did everything nowadays have to be about working through things and discussing every feeling you had? What ever happened to just letting someone suffer alone?

"Then why didn't you wake me up? You know I don't mind waking up for you. Come on, get out of there, we can go back to bed an-Jesus, Bucky!" Steve pulled his arm back from the cold water, surprised at the temperature and immediately concerned about his husband just sitting in it. Reaching in again, he turned off the tap before extending his hand to Bucky. "Why would you take a freezing cold shower in the middle of the night? You're getting those clothes off and I'm wrapping you in a towel, get up."

Bucky didn't move, though he did adjust his head so he wasn't staring forwards at the taps any more. Now his unfocused eyes faced Steve, but he was too wrapped up in what was going on in his head to realize he was worrying his husband. Honestly, he just wished Steve had slept through all this, he barely had it in him to remember to breathe, much less comfort the man he loved.

"Bucky," Steve's voice was more stern that time. He wasn't angry, Steve never got angry with him over this, but he did get get very serious. He made it his mission to get his smiling husband back from the dark abyss that threatened him from inside his head. He had no idea how much that had gotten in the last hour. "You can get up on your own and get those clothes off so I can warm you up, or I'll pick you up and do it for you, but you're not staying here."

It took everything in Bucky to reach out and take Steve's hand, allowing the other man to pull him to his feet. He didn't move except to make Steve's job easier as his husband took his wet clothes off and tossed them in the bath tub, standing in place as Steve wrapped a towel around him and began to dry him off. Inside, he was screaming his throat raw, putting his fists through the shower stall and anything else he could get near, wanting to bleed on the surface as much as he was inside.

I'm going to enjoy making you bleed.

"You've never done this before, the shower thing, what's going on?" Steve asked as he took out Bucky's bun so he could properly dry his hair. He was trying to stay as cool as possible without letting Bucky know that he was really concerned about his behaviour. He didn't want to exacerbate the situation, but he already felt like things weren't looking good at that moment. "You have to talk to me, Buck, what happened in your dream? What's got you this bothered and what do you want me to do to help?"

"I just…I should go back to bed, maybe…" said Bucky, sounding dazed as he kept staring blankly at the wall, unable to bring himself to meet Steve's eyes lest he break down and tell him everything. That's how Steve did it, when he was at his worst, he just looked deep into Bucky's eyes and broke all the locks he'd tried so hard to secure. He couldn't let him do that now, going back to a dark bedroom was the best way to avoid it.

"Okay, if that's what you want, we can do that. It's up to you, Buck," Steve frowned, running his hand over Bucky's wet hair, trying not to worry too much, though this seemed to be a situation that warranted it. He couldn't force Bucky to talk to him, it would only make things worse for both of them. All he could do was be supportive, and hope that Bucky came around eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later. "Let's get you back to bed then, you've got another hour and a half if you feel like going for a run with me, or you can just sleep through til whenever you feel like getting up. We can have a lazy day if you want, we've got nothing on the go."

"…stay?" Bucky whispered, staring down at their hands as he reached out slowly, his pinky finger hooking's Steve's before pulling in the rest of his hand. "Just…don't go…stay?"

Steve nodded a little, his chest aching as he looked at his obviously hurting husband, looking for any hint of what had happened to him to make him act like this. Giving his hand a squeeze, Steve let go of it so he could throw the towels in the hamper, picking up a brush and turning back to Bucky.

"If you don't want me to go running, that's fine, I'll stay here with you," Steve sighed, taking the hair elastic he'd left on his wrist from taking Bucky's hair down earlier, gathering it all up with the brush to put it back in a messy bun. "You need to go back to bed though, you need to relax, you're so tense, babe."

"Just don't leave me…please," Bucky said as he took Steve's hand again before heading for bed, wanting to get out of the lights of the bathroom.

"I wouldn't leave you for anything. I love you, Bucky," Steve replied, his voice soft and understanding, which only made Bucky's stomach twist harder inside him.

"Love you too, Steve," Bucky managed around the lump in his throat, climbing into bed and settling against his pillow as Steve crawled in behind him and covered them with the blankets. He moved back against his husband as he draped an arm over him, pressing himself as close to Steve as he could manage. Sleep wasn't about to come, though, he didn't want to risk another nightmare, he couldn't handle two in one night. He doubted that he could relax enough to fall back asleep either, Steve was right, he was tense. He was going to be lying awake for hours, staring at the clock beside the bed, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest next to a man he didn't deserve, a man who shouldn't have to spend his life rebuilding him.

A man who held him tight and silently laid awake with him for the rest of the night, terrified of what was going on with his husband.


	2. Just Stop

When the sun finally rose up over the horizon, the light streaming into their bedroom through the gap between the blinds and windowsill, Steve couldn't pretend to sleep any more, and neither could his husband. Steve's arm was still draped over Bucky, holding him close as he waited desperately for him to say why he climbed fully clothed into a freezing cold shower in the middle of the night. He had nightmares, those were regular, and they often involved spending some time awake together in the middle of the night. Bucky wasn't always the most talkative after them, but he at least gave Steve some idea of where his head was before he went back to sleep. This time, Bucky had been secretive and distant, he'd acted strangely, and Steve knew for a fact that he stayed awake through the rest of the night. It wasn't anything like the times before, nothing about this was normal, and he had to get to the bottom of it. He just didn't see the process going very well considering Bucky had already stayed quiet this long.

"Buck, you awake?" Steve asked, clearing his throat, trying to sound as casual as possible as he tightened his grip on his husband, rubbing his stomach as he did almost every morning.

Bucky didn't respond, though he leaned back against Steve, closing the narrow gap between their bodies. He was still as tense as he was in the bathroom hours ago, that hadn't changed in the least, and he was just as determined not to talk about what was going on.

"We should get up, babe, unless you want to spend the day in bed. We can do that if you want, maybe watch a movie together, do some talking, or not talk, that's an option too," Steve didn't want Bucky to think he was going to force him into doing something he wasn't ready for. Bucky was stubborn and didn't take well to being pushed into opening up when he wasn't ready to, Steve knew him very well by now.

Still silent, Bucky took Steve's hand off his stomach, lacing their fingers together before setting it back down. Closing his eyes, he took a long, deep breath and swallowed hard, but couldn't manage to make a sound beyond that.

"Bucky…baby…please talk to me…" begged Steve, desperation in his voice, feeling in his chest that this was so much worse than he'd anticipated. "Just say anything to me, I'm not going to be angry, I'm not going to be upset, but I need you to talk to me because you're starting to really scare me. I'm sorry if this makes me sound selfish, and it probably does, but I need to know if you're okay or I'm going to go out of my mind."

Biting his bottom lip, Bucky opened his eyes again, hating the sound of his husband suffering, especially when he knew it was all his fault. It wasn't that he was trying to do anything to upset Steve, it was the opposite, he knew that knowing about his dream, and the truth behind it, would devastate him.

"…I want a coffee…we should get up…" Bucky said, his voice small and hoarse, avoiding the subject altogether and hoping to get around other people, or get Steve around other people anyway. They'd talk to him, distract him, maybe let them keep him company whilst Bucky took off on his own for some time alone to deal with this. As much as he needed Steve to hold him and bring him comfort, he couldn't drag him into this, it was too much of a mess.

"A coffee?" Steve asked, almost wanting to shake Bucky for giving him such a casual reply.

"Yeah, Sam should have made coffee by now…" Bucky didn't want to move, he didn't want Steve to let go of him, he didn't want this embrace to end, but he had to do what was right.

"Buck…" Steve shook his head, not sure what to do with himself or his husband, wanting to push more but knowing his was probably a big sign not to do so. He was confused, worried, and a bit frustrated, but he knew this wasn't about him as much as it was affecting him. This had everything to do with Bucky and he had to let him stay in the driver seat. "Okay, coffee it is. Will you eat anything? I can make you some eggs or toast or…okay, that's about the extent of what I can make you."

"No, I'm not hungry. Just coffee. Black. Maybe a bottle of water," shrugged Bucky, trying to sound as relaxed as possible, though he didn't think he was fooling Steve for a second. He was pretty sure his plan of heading off alone wasn't going to work at this rate, not that it ever really had a chance against someone like Steve. He was persistent, especially where it came to Bucky, though he was guilty of the same concerning Steve. All they've had for so long was each other, who else would fuss over them but the other one?

"Do you want to get up now? I'm okay cuddling if you need to, this is actually really nice," Steve said, hoping to keep Bucky from leaving and pulling a disappearing act or something. He knew most of Bucky's hiding places around the compound, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find a brand new one just for the occasion.

"No, I…it is nice, yes, but I think I need to get up," Bucky said, hesitating for a moment before pulling out of Steve's grasp, a pang of guilt in his chest at separating himself from him. That was accompanied by a growing sense of dread, a feeling like being apart from Steve at all was going to be like having his heart ripped out. He didn't know how he was going to get through this, how he was going to face every day with this secret locked away in his head. It wasn't even eight in the morning and he was already going out of his mind because he got up out of bed away from his partner.

"Sure, we can get up. Did you want a shower? A nice warm one with me," offered Steve as cheerfully as he could manage, not wanting Bucky to know he was worried about him. "We don't have to do anything in there, it'll just be nice to have your company. And I know how much you like bathing with me, so you might as well just come along." Inside Steve's head, he was begging for Bucky to come along with him, not trusting his husband on his own. He felt guilty for thinking that way, but it was unavoidable.

"I…I don't know…" Bucky said truthfully, his voice distant as he stared across the room at their dresser, specifically at the framed photograph of the two of them from their wedding in Wakanda. They'd gotten married near the waterfalls there, barefoot, Bucky in his robes and Steve in his uniform, T'Challa performing the ceremony for them. It had been simple and without any fuss, so it had been perfect for the both of them.

"Please, Buck? I want to spend today together, I know last night was rough, and I want to look after you," Steve sat up in bed, crawling over to take a seat next to Bucky, wrapping an arm around him. "I always want to look after you, like you used to look after me. I'm just taking my turn now, and I don't mind that it's different from pneumonia or scarlet fever or anything else you nursed me though, this is just as urgent. I love you, Bucky, but you have to let me in, please."

Saying nothing, yet again, Bucky leaned his head on Steve's shoulder, still staring at the picture of them standing together at their wedding, laughing, their hands clasped between them. He'd thought that was the worst he was ever going to be, he thought he was only going to get better, especially with Steve's help. They'd been so optimistic, Bucky had been doing so well, they had everything to look forward to. Too bad he'd ruined that as well.

"…I just want a coffee, I'll wait for you though," Bucky said, sitting up again, putting some distance between him and Steve before he stood up and went over to their dresser, pulling out some clothes for the day.

"The shower…It was more about taking it with you, I had a bath last night and skipped the run, I think I'm okay without one. Let's just get dressed and head for the kitchen then, maybe we can do something together after?" Steve's voice was quiet as he got up to get his own clothing together, peeking over at Bucky a couple times as they got dressed, hoping to be able to read something in his body language, though all he could figure out was that the other man was incredibly tense, even for him, and distant. He wasn't going to get any new information just watching him, he was going to have to be careful and figure out a less direct way to find out what was going on.

"I don't know where Tony's buying his beans now, but I'm going to have to insist he keeps shopping there," Sam Wilson said as he leaned back against the counter, taking a sip from the second coffee he'd made himself that morning. There was nothing like an excellent cup of coffee, especially paired with a pepper and bacon omelette with lots of cheddar. He'd been working on it for a while now, the bacon was fried, the pepper was cooked and diced, and all the cheese was grated, all he had to do now was combine it in the pan with the egg, he'd been waiting all morning for this. "Are you sure you don't want one? I made way too much as usual."

"No, I'm good with this," Natasha said as she drank her own coffee between bites of toast. She planned on reserving her stomach for the rest of that tropical fruit salad left in the fridge from yesterday, but she wanted her toast and coffee first. "This is good coffee though, thanks for making it. I never get the levels just right, it ends up too strong."

"Not a problem. I'll teach you how to make it some time," Sam teased, pouring the beaten eggs into the pan with everything else, giving it gentle pokes with the spatula to spread everything out. "What are you up to today?"

"Oh you know, it's either get my hair done or kick someone's ass, and I haven't done either in a couple weeks," Natasha said with a shrug before giving Sam a smile over her mug. "Seriously, things have been quiet. I know I should be happy things are quiet but I'm running out of things to do. I'm going to need a hobby at this rate."

"I hear you, I get a bit on edge when things are like this, I feel like I'm just waiting for something to hit, and it's never anything good," Sam said, turning his head when he heard footsteps coming down the hall towards the kitchen, wondering who else he could share his omelettes with. "Good morning Steve, Bucky, where have you two been? I haven't seen you all morning, you hungry? There's coffee on."

"Morning. Just coffee, it smells good, but I think we're just having coffee this morning," Steve said as he went to get his and Bucky's mugs down from the cabinet, filling both with coffee, adding a shot of cream in his.

"Damn, you're all killjoys. More for me I guess," Sam chuckled, figuring he could store his leftovers in a container and have another omelette tomorrow, everything should heat up okay. "You're missing out, I've had rave reviews on my omelettes. You don't even need to add hot sauce, but I do recommend it."

"I believe you, I'm just not feeling a big breakfast," returning to Bucky's side, Steve handed his husband the Captain America mug Clint had bought him as a joke, taking a drink from the 'Grumpy Old Man' one Natasha had got for him. "Tell you what, get me in a couple days, I'd love to try one

"Did you two wear each other out a bit too much?" Natasha teased, raising an eyebrow at the two older men as they both leaned against the island. They both looked worn out, which wasn't exactly anything new around the compound, it was no secret that they were very much into each other. "You probably should have omelettes if you're going to be heading back for round two."

"Ha ha, hilarious," Steve said, shaking his head as he stared into his cup as if his coffee was the most interesting thing in the world, only snapping out of it when the toaster popped. "No more speculating about our love life, it's too early in the morning to be embarrassed."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about at this point, you two aren't exactly subtle, I'd say be loud and proud at this point," Natasha said as she went to the fridge to get the fruit salad before anyone else snagged it. As she emptied the container, she couldn't help notice that Bucky wasn't saying anything, though she didn't immediately think anything of it. Bucky could be very secretive at times, he liked to keep things between himself and Steve, and she didn't blame him. Watching him finish off his coffee, she wondered if she should pull him aside and say something, though she didn't see him appreciating that at all.

"Just not too loud, some consideration would be nice," Sam said, seated at the island and wasting no time digging into his breakfast. Suddenly all the effort seemed worth it, and between it and his coffee, his day was off to a good start.

"We're just having coffee, no one's being loud," Steve looked over at Bucky to try to read his expression, but it was as flat as ever. He wasn't even completely sure Bucky knew where he was at that very moment judging by how distant his eyes were. He needed to get him out of here, and he needed to do it in a way that didn't attract any attention. Questions wouldn't be good right now, for either of them.

"I'm just saying, you can be, mostly him," Sam said, pointing at Bucky with the pointy end of his fork, too wrapped up his omelette to see the look on Bucky's face when he said that, one of revulsion. "It's like living in an apartment building and your neighbour's got a subwoofer, only he likes to use it when he watching por-"

How many of those men had complimented him on just that?

"FUCKING STOP IT! JUST STOP! JUST STOP IT! JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!" Bucky suddenly snapped, his hands flying up to cover his ears, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried desperately to keep them covered. "I can't…I can't do this…I can't do this, I give up…" He didn't want anyone to talk, he didn't want to be reminded of anything those men said, but oh god, he could hear them in his head anyway, he could hear them telling him just why they were doing it to him, because he was what they liked. He was what all of them liked, that's why they'd pay so much just do get the chance to rape him. Frozen in his place, his hands still over his ears, he was suddenly aware of what he'd done, his calm and collected cover was blown, and he could feel all three sets of their eyes locked on him.

"Buck-" Steve started, putting down his coffee and reaching out to his husband, moving slowly as to not stress Bucky out further.

"NO!" Bucky pulled away, turning to storm out of the kitchen without another word, leaving a heartbroken Steve and confused Natasha and Sam behind.

"What was that?" Natasha asked, turning to look at Steve, figuring that if anyone knew what that was all about, it would be him.

"…did I say something wrong? We've joked about personal things before, I didn't think…should I go apologize?" Sam asked, going over what he'd said in his head, not sure where he'd have crossed a line considering his usual relationship with Bucky. Hell, they'd joked about things way more crude than that, maybe it was something he was sensitive about, but even then, Bucky didn't seem like the overly touchy type.

"I don't know, something's been up with him since last night. I woke up at three thirty or so and he was in the shower, dressed, and it was straight cold. His skin was frozen by the time I dried him off," Steve said, looking in the direction Bucky had stormed off in, not sure if he should follow or not considering Bucky had rejected him moments before. "Something is wrong, something is really wrong, and he's not letting me anywhere near him to help. It's not like usual at all."

"Steve, it doesn't matter if he's pushing you away or not, you better go after him in case he does something stupid," Natasha said urgently, wanting to go herself but knowing that she wasn't who Bucky needed right now, and he really needed Steve desperately. She wasn't stupid, she could hear the pain in Bucky's voice rather than anger when he screamed, it was the sound of a man truly suffering.

"You're right. I'll get back to you," Steve said with a nod, hurrying down the hallway Bucky had disappeared into, hoping Bucky hadn't done anything that couldn't easily be fixed. "Friday, where is Bucky Barnes?"

"Bucky Barnes is approaching the hanger," Friday replied pleasantly.

"Shit…" Steve took off running, the only thing he could think to do, hoping Bucky wasn't doing the same. He was glad it was early in the morning, the hallways were empty, which meant he hadn't managed to crash into anyone yet thankfully. He was running as fast as he could, the thought of Bucky harming himself somehow pushing him even harder. Arriving at the hanger, he spotted Bucky walking towards a quinjet looking determined as hell, but he couldn't let him take off like this, not alone. "Bucky! Stop!"

Bucky stopped, but he didn't turn to face Steve, just staring ahead at the quinjet instead, both hands balled into fists at his side.

"Buck, listen to me. Whatever it is, whatever's going on, it will be a lot less difficult if you let me help. You know how much it helps you to talk to me, to let me hold you and play with your hair, you've told me dozens of times so don't try to lie and say you haven't," Steve said, slowly walking closer, hoping to at least get close enough to grab Bucky before he made a run for the quinjet. "Buck, baby…I love you more than anything, please let me be there for you when you need me most. Don't run away, please don't disappear and scare me like that."

"…I'm not trying to scare you…" Bucky's voice was small, with a little tremble to it. "Steve, I'm trying to protect you…I…"

"I don't need protecting from you, or anything about you," Steve shot back, moving forward until he was within arm's length of his husband. "I married all of you, for better or for worse, and I meant those vows with everything in me. I've never meant something more in my life."

"You don't understand…" said Bucky as he shook his head, still unable to bring his eyes up to meet Steve's, staring at the quinjet instead.

"Then help me understand, make me understand," Steve replied, taking both of Bucky's hands in his own, forcing them out of fists so he could hold them tightly. "I'm not giving up on you, Buck."

Bucky looked down at their clasped hands, giving Steve's a squeeze as he mulled over the situation, mostly the new development in the form of his determined husband. Plans didn't have to change that much, they were just going to get a lot more complicated once Steve realized what was going on and what they were doing. Part of Bucky hoped that it would make things easier having him there, but the more realistic rest of him saw all of this going very badly. Steve wasn't going to like this, and he was terrified it would change things between them, but he couldn't push the other man away any more.

"If you want to help me you can get in the quinjet…I need you to fly me to Siberia," Bucky said softly, his voice as even as he could manage. It was better he didn't pilot right now, he was feeling shaky and sick to his stomach, maybe Steve coming was a good idea.

"Siberia?" Steve repeated, confused. "Why do you want to go to Siberia?" "There's something I need to check," Bucky said, raising his eyes up from the floor to Steve's, though only for a second. "Please, Steve. If you want to help, this is what I need."

"Then…" Steve trailed off, looking at Bucky again as he tried to catch his gaze again to no avail. He'd hoped that Bucky allowing him to come along meant he was ready to open up completely. That didn't seem to be the case. He'd have to be more patient, this didn't look like something that was going to iron itself out easily. "Then let's go. Siberia, it is."


	3. The Table

The entire flight to Siberia was mostly quiet, interrupted by the odd question from Steve as to what they were doing when they got there, which Bucky just ignored. He didn't seem to want to answer how he was doing, either, or what was on his mind. He didn't even want to talk about something as trivial as the clouds outside, Steve was lucky to get one or two words as a reply to anything he had to say. The silence was painful, and seemed to last forever, it was a long trip to the middle of Russia, or at least it seemed like one when he had no one to talk to. He could probably just put on the music from his phone, but that didn't seem like the best idea either. If Bucky wanted to sit there without a sound, he should respect that, he could handle flying like this, he couldn't make any of this about him. All he had to do was get Bucky back to the place Steve knew he hated the most, he could hope for some answers there, but he couldn't expect any. Not at this rate.

"We're landing in two, Buck," Steve said, looking at the screen in front of him, really not looking forward to going back to this place, it made him sick to think of what they'd done to his Bucky there.

"Alright…" Bucky replied, staring down at his hands in his lap, feeling like someone was wringing out his stomach like a wet cloth, and the grip on it was getting tighter the closer they got.

"Do you want me to go in with you? I can be another pair of eyes if you're looking for something, but you'd have to tell me what it was," looking over his shoulder, he hoped to catch Bucky's eyes, but the other man still wouldn't look up.

"I know where it is," Bucky said softly, torn between wanting Steve there or not. On one hand, he really didn't want to be alone when he walked into that room, but on the other, he was afraid of Steve's reaction to all this. "…it's not that I don't want you there, Steve…"

"Except you won't have me there, right?" Steve shot back before he could stop himself. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, steadying himself before he could speak again. "I didn't mean that, Buck, I'm trying not to push you, I'm just worried, and I want to be by your side in every difficult moment in your life. You shouldn't have to face your past alone."

"You'd understand if you knew…" Bucky said, clasping his hands together, wanting nothing more than to ease Steve's concern.

"But I don't know, you won't tell me anything. I don't know if we're going there to find a book, a file, a weapon, I…talk to me, Bucky, just tell me why you're looking for in that place," Steve all but begged, not sure what else he could say to get through to his husband, nothing he could come up with seemed to work, and it was hard being patient.

"…Steve…" Bucky began, licking his lips as he stared at the back of the other man's head, wishing Steve wasn't as devoted as he was, even if just for now. Normally he loved how passionate Steve was about everything in his life, especially Bucky, but right now it was causing problems. "It's…it's a table, okay? I'm looking for a table, but I know exactly where it is, I just don't know if I can get to it." He didn't know if that door for the hallway was going to be easy to open or not, it might be hidden, or it might be locked. If he was going to have to break it down, he wasn't going to hesitate.

"A table?" Confused, Steve looked back at Bucky, glad that the quinjet could accurately land itself whilst he dealt with this. Now he was adding bewilderment with worry, and they didn't make a good pair inside his head. "Why are you looking for a table? That's about the last thing I expected you to say."

"Like I said, you'd understand if you knew," Bucky said, feeling the quinjet touch down as he reached to undo his harness, not wasting any time in standing up to leave.

Steve undid his harness the moment he heard Bucky fumbling with his, getting to his feet as well as he looked over at his husband. "I will respect any decision you make in all of this. You're in the driver's seat, Bucky, but you can't blame me for being scared when you won't talk to me."

Bucky didn't reply. Instead, he walked over to the back of the jet, his fingers lightly touching the console on the wall, lowering the ramp for himself. Taking the gun from the armoury on board, he slung it over his shoulder and walked down onto the hard ground, heading straight for the entrance so he could get this over with. Maybe he was wrong, maybe it had been just a dream, but that didn't explain all the other memories that came to the surface along with it. He just knew he couldn't move forward without seeing with his own eyes if it existed or not.

But as he got to the building, he stopped in his tracks, standing frozen with his hand against the broken door as he fought the anxiety rising inside him. He didn't want to go inside, he didn't want to feel trapped by the walls around him, this rotting metal carcass that had once housed him for years, he didn't want any of this to feel familiar. And most of all, he didn't want to be back in this place alone.

"…Steve?" Bucky said warily, his grip tightening on his gun as he stared down into the darkness of the old base. His voice was quiet, but the only other sound he had to compete with was the low whistle of the wind.

"Did you call me, Bucky?" Steve had been standing at the top of the ramp, still mostly in the jet but out far enough to keep an eye on Bucky.

"I…I did…" Still looking into the dark and having a hard time taking a deep breath, Bucky tried to push himself again to go in alone, but the thought made him feel sick. "Can you…can you come here?"

Steve didn't hesitate for a second. As he hurried towards Bucky, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but he wasn't going to deny him anything reasonable right now. He said he was going to be supportive, and that's just what he would do. Stepping close to the other man, Steve reached out and took his hand, squeezing it as he gently tugged Bucky closer, only wanting to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. He wasn't sure what he was there for yet, though, he had to wait and listen.

"…can you come with me?" Bucky asked, his voice sounding tight and strained as he tried not to let his emotions burst forth. Once that started, it would be too hard to shut it off again, and he didn't want to give in to it. He needed to be professional about this, he was looking for the table, and he was looking for clues as to who raped him on it, in and out, there was no need for complications.

"Of course I'll come with you. Bucky, you say the word and I'll follow you anywhere," squeezing his husband's hand, Steve smiled weakly, hoping to look encouraging.

Bucky didn't look at him, though, he was too busy staring into the dark ahead of him, trying to shut up the voice in his head that was telling him to turn the other way and run. He couldn't handle this, this was a secret meant to stay buried for a reason, why was he just turning up and causing trouble when he could let things be?

Because he wasn't going to let them get away with this.

"I need my hand for the gun, in case someone's in there. I don't see any footprints around, but I'm not taking a chance," Bucky said, letting go of Steve's hand and making himself move forward, feeling like he was walking in a foot of molasses. The effort alone to just walk inside the base was exhausting, and he knew it wasn't going to get easier as he got deeper inside.

"Of course," Steve kept his voice quiet, not wanting to startle anyone if they were there, he'd rather this happen without a fight. Stepping onto the elevator, he didn't speak as they moved down, instead he was focused on how erratic Bucky's breathing was. He was breathing deeply for the most part, but about half of his inhales were so urgent sounding, it like he was trying not to drown whilst standing on land. As much as he wanted to say something, he didn't, he wasn't going to push any of Bucky's buttons about anything until he knew he wouldn't have a bad reaction to it.

Getting off the elevator, Bucky led Steve into the room where he'd been kept, his cryochamber still sitting open ready to be used in the center of the floor, a flood of memories coming back as he walked past it. He wished he'd brought something he could destroy it with, he'd attempt to do it with his bare hands, but it was made to house him, meaning it was built to take any damage he could dish out. He'd come back to it later, when the time was right and he had Banner or Thor with him to lay waste to it, though he doubted that would be as satisfying as taking it apart with his own hands. That could be his next project, he was busy enough with the one he had at hand.

"Do you know what you're looking for, Buck?" Steve asked, his own stomach turning at the cryochamber, hating the thought of his husband being loaded into that thing again and again, his humanity stripped from him. "Can I help?"

"No…" Bucky replied quietly as he walked to the wall across from the door, behind the chamber. Laying his hands on it for a moment, he pushed against it, looking for any point of entry, or sign of weakness. He was getting through this wall one way or another. Sliding his metal hand to the left as he leaned into it, he heard the screech of metal on metal as a panel the size of a book spun outwards, revealing a metal door handle behind it. Taking a deep breath, he seized it, turning it downwards with a loud clunk and stepping back as a door appeared from nowhere, lifting out from the wall and swinging open, looking down the long dark hallway that it had hidden.

"Here, I got this," Taking his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, Steve turned on the flashlight, his primary use for a smartphone, and walked over to Bucky's side, directing the light into the dark. He couldn't see anything in the corridor, it was empty except for a closed metal door down at the far end, but as he and Bucky began to walk down it, his sense of unease was growing. Nothing good could possibly come from a secret passageway in a place like this, when they were willing to do what they did to Bucky out in the open.

Bucky walked down the hall slowly, his gun aimed at the door and ready to open fire if anyone stepped out of it. He doubted anyone could have gotten past that hidden door and closed it behind them, but that didn't mean it was impossible, and he wasn't taking the chance. It was only thirty yards or so, but it felt like the longest walk in his life, and he knew then that there was no way he could have done it without Steve.

"…Steve?" Bucky asked, his voice trembling as his hand rested on the handle, testing it to make sure it wasn't locked. "Can we…just…can we just take a minute?" He could barely speak now, his throat was closing, and he was terrified to open this door and see what laid beyond it.

"Of course, what is it?" Putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder, Steve gave it a squeeze, hoping that little touch would comfort his husband rather than annoy him.

"…will you always love me?" Bucky whispered, his heart thundering in his chest as he fought the urge to turn and run.

"Of course I will. I've loved you with all my heart since we were kids, I don't see that changing," Steve said softly, his fingers moving up to tuck a stray piece of Bucky's hair behind his ear lovingly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You took care of me when I had no one, you've been nothing but a true friend to me my entire life, and I would never want to be without you. How can I not adore you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, hoping that he meant what he was saying. He may mean it now, but things could change, Steve didn't know what he did, and Bucky was terrified of this making his life even worse. If he lost Steve, he would lose everything, and he didn't think he could come back from that.

"…just…remember how you feel now, please…" Bucky said as he took a deep breath, turning the handle and pushed it open. The room beyond it was pitch black, save for the light from Steve's phone, which was running along the wall in search of a switch to the lights. Finding it next to a panel in the corner by the door, Bucky walked over and flipped it, his back facing the center of the room, panic making his heart beat faster and faster. He knew it was there, he didn't even have to look, he knew it was sitting there waiting for him.

"…what is that?" Steve said, pocketing his phone as he stared at a solid metal block anchored to the middle of the floor, frowning as he walked over to it and examined the thick cuffs and restraints, dreading the thoughts that were going through his mind. What the hell were they doing to his husband here?

"Steve…" Bucky began, his voice shaking.

"Why were they strapping you down, that's what this is, right? Were they torturing you? Is that it?" The simmering anger in Steve's voice was impossible to ignore as every instinct in him was telling him to destroy this thing in front of him. Turning to look at it again, he noticed the grooves made by Bucky's fingers, reaching out to touch them with his own.

Bucky couldn't begin to answer, he was fighting back the urge to throw up, tears gathering in his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks.

"Buck, you have to talk to me here," Steve said, looking over at Bucky, who was still facing the wall by the door, still yet to turn around. "Whatever they did to you, Bucky, we can work through it. You've been doing great with everything else, you can do this too, we can do it together. I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you, I'm going to do everything I can to help you, baby."

"…it wasn't torture…it was, but…not like you're thinking…" Bucky whispered just loud enough for Steve to hear, slowly turning to face his husband, tears pouring from his blue eyes as he covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head slowly.

"What do you mean it was and wasn't torture? Bucky, I can't help you if you don't tell me. Come on, we're here, aren't we? Nothing's changed between us, nothing's going to, so please tell me what's going through your head," Steve saw the fear in Bucky's eyes, he saw a man falling apart, and all he wanted to do was help him.

"Steve, I'm sorry…" Bucky whimpered, his voice cracking as he finally looked over at the table, looking just like it did in his dream, down to the marks he put into it. "I'm so sorry…"

"Why would you be sorry? You've got nothing to be sorry for, you-" Steve paused, his stomach sinking as a realization hit him. The table, it would bend Bucky over and keep him in that position, the restraints would hold him in place, so that they could… "Bucky, baby…"

Bucky shook his head again as he broke down into sobs, falling to his knees on the dirty floor as he broke down completely, gasping for breaths between bouts of tears. He was crying so hard it physically hurt, it felt like everything good in him was being drained out, he was too weak to get back to his feet, to even reach for Steve. He felt small, pathetic, and used, like there was nothing left in him worth redeeming now. Bucky was already a murderer, and now he was completely aware of a whole new part of him, a part that was overwhelming him past what he could handle. In that moment, he wished he'd died in the fall.

"Bucky…no, no…" Steve dropped down to the floor, wrapping his arms around Bucky, and pulling him close into a tight embrace. His own tears were starting to fall, shocked that Bucky had been used like that, and guilty that he felt like he couldn't tell him. It took coming here to this place where Bucky had suffered to make him open up, and suddenly it made so much sense that he wouldn't look him in the eye. Steve knew his husband, Bucky had wanted control over this, and he knew how close he was to breaking this entire time. There's no way he could have held it together if he'd looked him in the eye.

"You don't even know…there were so many…so many times. They were paying…paying Hydra to drug me and put me in this thing…I was there fucking whore…" Bucky spit out as he curled up against Steve's chest, shaking all over, wishing he could just get drunk out of his mind and block all this out. "I had a dream, I remembered coming in here, I remembered the men. But after I was awake, it all kept coming to me, and it was endless, there was just more and more, poisoning me."

"Buck…" Steve was speechless, holding his husband tighter, but at a loss of what to say that could possibly comfort him. Everything seemed so weak, meaningless, compared to what Bucky was going through, like throwing a cup of water on a five alarm blaze. He was lost, for the first time in his entire relationship with Bucky, he felt like he had nothing he could say to him, nothing that could help, anyway.

"I was supposed to be just yours…" Letting out a pathetic whimper, Bucky dissolved into tears anew, his stomach twisting inside him, not even realizing how much he was shaking still.

"James Buchanan Barnes, you ARE mine. That hasn't changed, nothing will change that, I love you more than anything, you are the single most important in my life and you always have been. What happened to you wasn't your fault, so I'm telling you now, it doesn't count," Steve didn't realize how hard he was crying against Bucky's hair until the spot was already soaked. He couldn't move, though, he didn't want to let go of him for a second, he wanted Bucky to feel as secure as he could be in Steve's arms. In that moment, Steve would have destroyed anyone or anything that so much as looked at him wrong.

"…I don't know how I'm going to move on from this, Steve, I don't know what I'm going to do, I'm so fucking lost and I don't want to hurt you. I know this is hurting you, I can hear it in your voice," Bucky whispered, his arms still hugging his chest. As much as he wanted to just hug Steve back, he couldn't bring himself to let go. "I didn't want to upset you like this, I was going to handle it myself."

"Bucky, you don't have to handle it yourself, that's pretty much the reason I married you, to work together through everything. We're a team, like we always have been, and I'd rather be upset than have you go through this by yourself. That would upset me more that you suffered alone," Rubbing Bucky's back in circles, Steve tried his best to calm his husband down, he could hear how ragged his breathing was, and it was easy to feel how tense he was. "Baby, tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it for you."

"…help me…" Bucky said, opening his eyes slowly as he looked up at the table they were kneeling next to, his blood running cold through his veins. In it's reflection, he could see what looked like an old wood desk in the corner of the room, curiosity rearing it's head through all the pain he was feeling.

"Help you what, Buck?" Steve asked, pressing a kiss to his damp hair, resting his cheek against the spot as he held Bucky close, hoping he could get him out of this place soon. He was pretty sure that alone would help the state of panic he'd been in since they walked through the door.

Bucky stood slowly, regrettably breaking away from Steve, and stepped over to the desk, shoving the chair that sat in front of it aside. Pulling open the drawers on the sides, he threw down the paper and junk he found inside them, throwing down the empty drawers with each one he emptied. Finally he tried the middle drawer, only to find it locked snugly, though that wasn't going to slow him down for a second. Stepping back, Bucky kicked the underside of the desk hard, breaking the bottom lip of the frame under the drawer in half, which he easily pulled away with his hand. Grabbing the drawer again, he pulled it down, easily dislodging it from the rest of the ruined desk, and dropping it on top of it.

"…what's in there, baby?" Steve asked, slowly walking closer, having stood of of Bucky's way as he broke into the desk, not wanting to smother Bucky too much.

"…pictures…o-of me…some spools of film…this…" Bucky picked up a ledger with shaking hands, opening it to the first page as he tried to ignore the photos of himself, and sometimes other men. The first line was enough to make Bucky want to throw it to the floor. "…on September twenty seventh, nineteen seventy, Alfred Lucas paid fifty thousand dollars for me. So did Pavel Baranov, and Till Frege. On the next page, it's December of that year, and five men. Then it's April and four. Over and over…" Flipping through the book, looking over each page, Bucky glanced over each page, all in the same neat handwriting with a black pen, until he came to the final page. "…February third, two thousand fourteen…eleven men…that's not even the most, there's others…that's forty four years, Steve…"

"Bucky…I'm…I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, baby…I'm here, I'm here for anything…" Steve said as he wrapped his arms around his husband from behind, not sure what else he could possibly say at that moment, absolutely nothing he could think of stood up against the gravity of this moment. It hurt badly, he felt absolutely crushed, and he couldn't begin to imagine what was going through Bucky's head right now. He couldn't worry about what he was feeling, he would have to deal with that later, everything in that moment had to be about Bucky.

"You said you'd help me…" Bucky said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotion, leaning back against his husband as he stared down at the open book in his hands.

"And I will, I mean it, Buck. Anything you need, anything I can do," Steve said desperately, wanting some indication of what he needed from him most right now.

"Then help me destroy this place, help me destroy that," Pointing to the table with a trembling finger, a deep burning anger rising from within him as his eyes flickered over the pictures and film reels, as his stomach turned again, threatening to empty itself as he realized there could be many more of these and he had no way of tracing them. "I want everything in this room ripped apart, I want it burnt, I want no trace of what this place was. I don't want it coming back to me."

"Of course, there won't be anything left, we'll take care of it all, Buck," Steve said, squeezing his shoulders, wishing they could leave faster than that, but he understood Bucky's reasoning, and he'd do anything to help him. "Is that anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes…" He took a deep breath, pulling himself away from Steve and turning to face him, his red teary eyes reflecting the mass of emotion churning inside him. "This has to stay between us, Steve, no matter what. Please. Don't tell our friends, no one. This dies with us."

"Just us, I swear to you, baby." Steve nodded without hesitation, cupping Bucky's face and leaning in to press a kiss against his forehead. "Are you ready to do this? If you need time…"

"I don't need time," Bucky said as turned away from Steve to look through the contents of the drawer again, specifically an item he was sure he saw earlier. Spotting it amongst the photos, he reached in and pulled out a silver lighter with the initials A.D.S. engraved on it, flicking it open to make sure it still worked. He was going to make sure the only thing in that room that was leaving with them was the ledger he held against his chest, and the names within it. Only Steve and he were going to be the ones that knew this room existed, and what happened in it, even if he had to hunt every single one of them down. "I'm ready now."


	4. London

Even before they left Siberia, Steve had made the decision not to take Bucky home to the compound for at least a few days. He didn't want to raise any questions, especially considering that Bucky wouldn't give them any answers. He wasn't going to pressure Bucky into telling anyone, even if he did think that keeping it as a shameful secret was only going to make things worse. A holiday in London was easier to lie about to the others, and it was a way he could keep Bucky to himself so they could talk as much as he was willing. It was much less complicated than anything else he could come up with. As strong as his husband was, Steve had every plan to protect Bucky completely, and that meant from anything, including himself.

The trip to London has been quiet, though Steve tried to say something every five minutes or so to keep Bucky from slipping too far into his own mind. He felt like he was saying all the wrong things, though, nothing seemed right in that moment, and he wasn't sure if he was making things better or worse for his husband. He didn't seem to want to talk about what had happened right now, but he didn't seem interested in small talk either, not that Steve could blame him. Mostly, Steve kept him occupied with stories about their past, trying to get Bucky to reply at all, though for the most part he didn't seem interested in that either. He couldn't let Bucky just shut down, though, he couldn't lose his husband to this, he wasn't going to let Hydra win this battle, Bucky deserved better than everything they'd done to him.

Getting to their hotel from the airport, Bucky had declined getting something to eat, and Steve had to admit he didn't want anything either, despite being the one that offered to either stop somewhere or pick something up. They'd checked in with the light bag they'd brought with them, and the ledger that had been clutched to Bucky's chest from the moment they left that room. Steve had tried to separate it from him earlier to no avail, and he didn't want to argue with him right now. He didn't think an argument would help either one of them, they were both so overloaded with emotions, it would probably get heated knowing the state Bucky was in right now. It was better to just leave it alone.

"So…is there anything I can get you? I know you don't want food, but…" Steve sat on the end of the bed, looking over at Bucky who'd taken the chair, laying his book open on the table and going through it. "Buck, I don't know if that's a good idea…"

"George Noonan keeps showing up…he was in the last entry, in the two before that, and I'm still seeing him going back. There are a few names that keep coming up, actually, looks like the relied on repeat business. Patrick Grant, Stjepan Lujak, Hayato Hamada…" Bucky said, his voice quiet and dull as he slowly flipped through the pages. "My price went up, it was an even five hundred grand at the end. Seems like a waste of a lot of money, but what do I know…"

"Bucky, why are you torturing yourself? I don't think that will make you feel better…" Steve asked, leaning forward so he could reach Bucky's leg, putting his hand on the man's thigh and squeezing it softly.

"Because they already did it for me! It might not make me feel better but it's not going to get any worse than this!" Bucky snapped, pulling his leg back before getting to his feet, walking over to the window to stare out of it, his back to his husband.

"Bucky…"

"NO! Don't 'Bucky' me, I-!" Bucky spun around, freezing as he looked Steve in the eyes, panting as the anger slowly left him, his eyes wide. "Steve…"

"Bucky, you're going through a lot, I know you didn't mean it," Getting to his feet, Steve hurried to Bucky's side, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. He was still tense, his body nearly rigid in Steve's embrace, but that didn't mean he was going to stop hugging him, especially when he leaned into every one. "If I push a button and you yell at me, we're just going take a step back and see where we went wrong and just not do that again."

"Why are you so patient with me?" Bucky asked, misery in his voice as he rested his forehead on Steve's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Because I love you, and because you always were with me. I don't know how many times you stayed up all night being my nurse, and you never asked me for a thing to do it, you were just happy to be by my side. Now it's my turn, I'm going to get you through everything Hydra's done to you. We'd already started doing that with your time as the Winter Soldier, now we've got this to deal with too," Steve kept rubbing his back, hoping he would start to relax and wanting to cry when there was no change in him. He didn't know if it was because he couldn't get through to Bucky, or if it was just too soon to expect anything from him at all. "This is the least I could do, Bucky."

"No, the least you could do is leave," Bucky pointed out softly. "You could say 'screw this' and run for the hills and leave me to the mess I'm drowning in. What you're doing for me is much more that the least you could do."

"You know what I mean, baby," Steve stroked Bucky's hair lovingly, wishing it didn't smell like smoke. "You saved my life countless times, so I'm going to keep working to save yours. Fair is fair."

"God, we've got some…pretty fucking serious relationship standards," Bucky laughed weakly, though there was no humour in it, it sounded as empty as his eyes had looked since he woke up early that morning.

"That's how you can tell we're so good for each other," Steve said, echoing it with a flat laugh of his own. Letting go of Bucky, he put his hands on his husband's shoulders, holding him tight and trying to get him to look into his eyes. He succeeded a little in the latter, but he didn't like what he saw, it was like Bucky had completely switched off. "Bucky, you've had a long day, I know you haven't been back to sleep since you woke up. Don't you think you should try to get some sleep? Have a shower first, get the smell of smoke off, and then we'll crawl into bed together. I'll be right there with you, I think I could use a few winks myself."

Steve watched as Bucky blinked, nodding a little as he moved closer to the bed and stripping off his clothes and leaving them on the ground where they fell, stepping over them as he headed to the bathroom. Something about seeing Bucky leave his clothes on the floor made him feel better, it was something his husband always did, he was constantly picking up after him. Even if it was usually something that drove him crazy, some normality right now was a blessing. Taking off his clothes and setting them neatly on the chair, he walked to the bathroom to join Bucky in the shower, just wanting to stay close to him.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, you don't have to watch me," Bucky said as he stepped into the shower stall, taking a moment to examine the faucets to figure out how to make the water warm enough for Steve. He'd planned on dousing himself in straight cold again, or hot, he hadn't fully decided, he just didn't want to feel that room on him any more, he didn't want to smell it on his skin.

"That's not why I'm here," Steve said, getting in the shower behind Bucky, taking his hair out of it's messy bun and slipping the elastic on his own wrist so he could put it up again for him later. "I'm here with you because I want to be, and because I'm not getting into a clean bed smelling like sweat and smoke."

Bucky didn't buy it. Sticking his head under the water, he stepped out again once he was soaked to make room for Steve, standing off to the side pouring some of the complimentary shampoo into his hand, careful to leave enough for Steve.

"You didn't say, though, do you think I'd do something like that?" Bucky asked, scrubbing his hair as Steve began using the body wash, switching bottles with his husband after they were both done.

"Buck…" Steve said, not sure fit Bucky was trying to start an argument or not, he wouldn't have been surprised if he was, though. There was a lot off anger bubbling under the surface, his normally peaceful partner was a powder keg ready to go off. "I didn't say because I don't think it needs addressing. You're strong, so much stronger than me, I don't think you'd use that as your solution for all this."

"We both know I'm not stronger than you," Relaxing a bit, seeming to believe him, Bucky stuck his head under the water to rinse the shampoo out as he soaped himself up, stepping completely into the stream to get the rest. Stepping to the far corner once he was done, he stayed back to let Steve have the space. He wasn't used to the luxury of a long, hot shower yet, he generally tried to get out of them as soon as possible unless Steve was with him.

"I don't want to argue with you. Let's just…we'll just leave that alone," Steve said as he rinsed off as well, taking a moment for himself to close his eyes and let the hot water run down his back. "Do you want to put conditioner in your hair? Makes it easier to manage."

"No," Bucky said, crossing his arms across his chest as he looked down at his feet. He didn't care about conditioner, or his hair, at the moment, or much else besides wanting to escape everything in his head.

On Bucky's path to recover his memories and cope with what he was forced to do, Steve had often dealt with him being quiet, and now wasn't going to be any exception. It made Steve worry, though, usually when Bucky kept silent, it meant things were at their worst, it meant the dialogue running through his mind was something Steve would object to or argue with. It was when Bucky had the capacity for cruelty, he was a master of it, and it was only against himself.

"Alright…" Turning around, Steve shut off the shower, pushing the door open as he stepped out and got them both towels. "Bucky, I'm just trying to help you, I'm sorry if it bugs you, but I don't think I can stop. I'm worried about you, you're going through something terrible, and it's my job as your husband to look after you."

"I don't remember that in our vows," Bucky said flatly as he dried himself off quickly, hanging the towel up as he walked past Steve into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, the side he always took to avoid lying on his metal arm.

"It was implied. Sit still, I'll do your hair for you," Steve said as he came in after him, going over to pull the brush he'd packed out of the bag. Going over to the bed, he sat behind Bucky and started brushing his wet hair out so it wouldn't dry tangled, taking his time as he hoped doing that would relax Bucky like it usually did. It wasn't as soft as it usually was with Bucky using the shitty hotel shampoo and skipping out on conditioner, but it didn't matter. This wasn't actually about hair, this was just a quiet, intimate moment between the two of them, and not a word had to be said. By the end, Steve had pulled Bucky's hair into a bun, securing it with the hair tie he'd left on his wrist.

"…Steve?" Bucky began, the sound of defeat heavy in his voice, which only served to worry Steve more.

"Yeah, baby?" Moving to sit next to Bucky at the edge of the bed, looking at his expression, his chest aching at how lost he looked.

Bucky turned his head to look at Steve, not speaking for a moment, before pulling him into a rough kiss, his efforts hard enough to split his own lip on Steve's teeth, but that didn't stop him from continuing.

"Bucky, you're bleeding…" Steve said, breaking the kiss as Bucky crawled into his lap, still naked from the shower.

"I don't care," Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck as tears ran down his cheeks in torrents, ready to lean in and kiss him again. "Come on, we didn't last night…I want you, I want you bad, please…"

"Buck, normally I'd love to, you know that, but I don't think that's what you actually want. You're bleeding, you're crying, you're shaking all over, baby, I want to make you happy, but I don't feel like this is going to do it," Steve said, hating to say no, but he didn't want to have sex with him and make him worse either.

"You don't want me any more, do you?" Bucky said, sounding utterly heartbroken, tears dripping off the bottom of his jaw as he breathed like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"That's not it at all, I love you, I still want you with everything in me, what happened to you isn't going to change that. But you've been dealt a terrible blow today, and you're still coming to terms with it, and I think that sex might complicate it at this point, I know what you're like when you want me, and just now was far from that. Let me hold you, please, let me love you in other ways…" Steve begged, cupping Bucky's cheeks and looking into his beautiful blue eyes, desperate to see a glimmer of hope that Bucky's suffering wouldn't drag him down.

Crawling off Steve's lap, Bucky sat back on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and staring down at his clasped hands between his knees. He didn't believe Steve, he always seemed to know what to say but it didn't mean it was true. He didn't have it in him to fight him over it, he felt like his inside of his head and heart was a mass of open wounds and tight scars, it was painful enough just to think. From the moment this came into his head, he'd feared this reaction from Steve, a confirmation that he was just used and defiled, he was as dirty as he felt. Why would Steve want that?

"Why don't we go to bed?" Steve suggested, putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can stay here as long as you want, we don't have to go home for anything, we can buy what we need."

He knew what was waiting for him in sleep, he was terrified to shut his eyes, he didn't want to hear their voices, they were still echoing in his head from before. He didn't want to talk any more, though, so he'd agree to it for Steve, he'd do as he was told for now. Climbing in under the blankets, he rested his head on the pillow as he curled up on his side, not moving as his husband got in bed behind him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. He didn't budge as Steve spoke for a while, though the words weren't sinking in any more, it was like he was speaking from the shore as Bucky was deep under the waves. The talking stopped eventually, and then the arm draped over him loosened it's grip soon afterwards as Steve finally fell asleep.

Bucky was far from sleep, though. He had much different plans in mind.

Steve didn't tend to remember his dreams, he never really had, but the sight of Bucky bent over that table with a line of men waiting for their turn with him. He had only been a ghost, all he could do was scream, but he couldn't look away. He had to watch these faceless men, these sick monsters, hurt the one person he loved more than anything in the universe, and he couldn't save him. He couldn't help the burning feeling that he'd failed Bucky, he'd let this happen to him. If he'd gone after him after he fell, he would have found him alive, he could have spared him so much pain and torture at the hands of Hydra. He could have saved him, his best friend and husband, and it was going to be his single greatest regret, he was going to be paying back Bucky for the rest of their lives.

"Mmm…Buck?" Steve's eyes slowly opened, freed from his fitful sleep, as he looked at the bed beside him to find it empty. Sitting up in a hurry, he looked over at the bathroom, hoping desperately he'd just beaten Steve to waking up. Getting up, he hurried to look inside, praying under his breath as he opened the door. "Bucky?"

His heart sunk in his chest as he realized he was alone in the room.

"Bucky…oh god, oh god…" Steve was in a full panic, rushing back into the bedroom to start getting dressed, hoping Bucky didn't have that much of a head start on him. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he selected Bucky's number at the top of the list, hitting his name, and putting it to his ear. As it began to ring in his ear, the soft sound of Frank Sinatra singing 'Our Love' began to fill the room, along with a buzzing noise. Steve turned around, watching Bucky's phone vibrating on the table as he listened to the song he and Bucky had their first dance to. Left in the place where the ledger had been.

Ending the call to Bucky, he immediately placed one to Sam, gritting his teeth when it went to voicemail. It was six in morning in London, he couldn't expect Sam to be awake at this hour, but he could leave him a message for when he did get up.

"Sam it's me, I'm in London, Bucky's missing. I don't know when he left, sometime between midnight and six. Something came up from his past, something in Siberia, I can't get into it but he is not stable right now, he is no okay at all. Please, you and Nat, can you meet me here? I need to find him, I don't know if he's going to hurt himself, but I'm pretty sure he's going to hurt other people. Get back to me, hurry, please," Steve pleaded, not realizing he was crying until his voice cracked. "Sam, please wake up, please…"

Hanging up the phone, he hurriedly got dressed, stuffing his things in his pockets as he went for the door. He had no idea where Bucky would have gone, and he didn't know the city at all, but he had to try, he had to get him before the police did. He was glad that Tony had taught him how to work the map feature on the phone, because the confusing road system made London looked like an intimidating city. Steve knew where to start at least, he had to go back to the air field where he'd left the quinjet to make sure it was still there. He wasn't sure if it was worse that it would be there or no, either way Bucky has the skill set to disappear and move quickly, he could be far from London by now.

It didn't take long for him to check on the still present quinjet, and from there he set off to scan the city as best he could on his own. He didn't know where Bucky would go right now, he was good at hiding in plain sight, so he could be anywhere with a crowd, or he could be somewhere underground where Steve had no hope of finding him. There was a dark cloud hovering over him, though, he'd done this once before and been unsuccessful. He might know Bucky better than anyone in the universe, and even he had looked for years for him and found nothing. Steve refused to give up though, Bucky was his own worst enemy right now, he couldn't be trusted to feel safe.

Putting his phone in his pocket, Steve walked into Hyde Park, mostly because Bucky had said that he'd liked sitting in the park near his apartment in Romania when he needed a break. Determined to check each and every bench in the city of London, he wasn't going to stop until he found his husband again. He'd been at this for hours, and he was somewhere between being ready to throw his phone or burst into tears but he wouldn't let himself take a break, as much as his overburdened mind needed one. He was so busy running down a path that he almost missed the sound of his phone going off.

"Sam!" Steve said, though he didn't sound very relieved. "Thank god you called back, I need you and Nat, I need you now."

"We're getting ready to head to London now, I just got your message," Sam said, looking over at Natasha who had been glued to her phone since Sam told her what was going on, frowning as he watched her raise a finger to catch his attention before she began typing furiously. "What is it?"

"Where in London is Steve now?" Natasha asked, opening up her own map of the city.

"Tell her I'm in Hyde Park," Steve said, having heard his friend loud and clear on his end.

"He's in Hyde Park," Sam said, putting the phone on speaker to make the conversation easier.

"I'm monitoring the police activity in London, I thought maybe he'd been spotted, but I found something else. There was a huge fire in Kensington, which is on the west end of the park, they found a body in the building," Natasha said, closing the map and opening something else, her eyes scanning the text.

"I don't get it, people die in house fires all the time," Steve said, still jogging along, wishing there weren't so many damn paths.

"The fire doesn't usually tie them to a chair or break their neck. Victim's head was on backwards when they found him," Natasha said, reading as she spoke. "You said Bucky's not stable and that he might hurt people, which people are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you everything, just know that Hydra had been torturing him for years, and there's these other men involved with it, and I think he's after them," Steve came to a crossroads, looking in every direction before picking right.

"So this George Noonan could be one of them?" Natasha asked, trying to see if there was any more information, anything that could have tied Bucky to the crime, but so far the police were without witnesses, and the cameras on the street had been destroyed.

"George Noonan…" Steve stopped dead, his shoulders slumping as he remembered the name from the day before as one who had used Bucky on multiple occasions. "…yeah, he was at the top of the list."

"How many of the other names can you remember?" Sam asked, walking with Natasha to go get in a quinjet to hurry over to England.

"I don't think any, I could barely think myself…let me try to remember and I'll get back to you," Dropping down to sit on the bench, Steve put his head in his hand, feeling sick.

"We're going to be there soon, Steve. Hold tight," Natasha said, hoping to sound comforting, though she knew nothing short of finding Bucky was going to help Steve right now. "I'll get a hold of you the second I know anything more."

"Thank you…" Steve said softly, feeling like sharp claws were raking over his heart every time he imagined the state Bucky must be in, alone and lost in his own anger. "Tell me when you land. I'll be here."

Hanging up the phone, Steve took in a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair, fighting the urge to pull it out by the handful. Bucky was already ahead of them, and if he didn't want to be caught, it likely wasn't going to happen. How many people were in that book and where were they all? Why didn't he look at it for even a second? Bucky. Bucky had kept a hold of that thing pretty much since they found it, he'd been planning this all along. He'd left Steve behind because he knew he'd try to stop him, he'd just get in the way of Bucky's agenda. But he had no idea how long it was going to take, or which Bucky would return to him after, if he returned at all. There was nothing stopping Bucky from ending his own life after this was done, Steve wasn't there to pull him back from the edge this time. One thought kept echoing in his head, the same thing over and over, the colour draining out of his face and the world around him as his hands clenched into fists in his lap as he fought back the tears threatening to spill down his face.

What if he'd held his husband for the last time?


	5. Dubai

Steve sat alone in the back of the quinjet, oblivious to the noises around him, looking down at his laced fingers, having lost count of how many times he'd just sat and stared at them. Sam and Natasha were up front, following a lead she'd heard only hours before, taking them from Tokyo to Dubai after a couple of days looking around after the death of the CEO of a shipping company was murdered brutally in his own office. He couldn't sit and converse with them, though, and they both respected that he needed quiet and to be left alone. He felt guilty, they were here helping him, after all, they hadn't given up following cold trails and ghosts, trying to find anything that would bring them closer to finding Bucky. In the meantime, Steve could barely sleep or eat, he was barely existing as he worried more and more each day about his husband. They'd been around the world chasing him, only to get there and find a body left behind, sometimes in a fire, sometimes pulled from the water, with a broken neck or a bullet through their brain, a couple of times beaten to a pulp as well. Natasha had confirmed all of the victims as having ties to Hydra, so they knew they were on the right path, they knew they were behind Bucky, if only they had any idea of how to get ahead of him.

Letting out a sigh, Steve's thumb ran along the edge of his wedding band, spinning it on his right ring finger as he peeked in at the inscription inside. Bucky had insisted that he didn't want his ring on his left hand, he explained he wasn't attached to his new arm yet, and would rather wear it on the right. Steve had agreed that made sense, and insisted that he do the same to match his new husband. Bucky had smiled at him that, he'd thrown his arms around Steve's neck and told him exactly what he was going to have engraved on the inside of the bands. Now, sitting with his ring, he took it off, holding it between his fingers, and hearing Bucky's voice in his head.

'To the end of the line. S+B'

Three months. It had been more than that now, it had been exactly one hundred and three days since he'd last seen his Bucky, since he'd held him, damaged, in his arms and told him he loved him. He blamed himself for all of this, for not knowing what to say to keep Bucky from running off, to not realizing what he had planned. As much as Sam and Natasha had told him he was doing everything he could do, he still felt like he wasn't doing nearly enough. If he could push himself harder, if only he knew what he was supposed to do, he would have his husband back and he could take care of him like he had before. He didn't know how these deaths were going to do to Bucky once he had time to process exactly what he had done. He was convinced that this wasn't about Bucky going back to his old ways, this was Bucky trying to keep himself sane. He had to keep telling himself that or his heart would break and he would fall apart, he couldn't begin to imagine losing his Bucky again.

"Steve…"

Looking up from his hands, Steve turned his head to look up at the others, snapped from his daydream.

"We're approaching Dubai," Sam said gently, reaching out to gently touch Steve's arm, watching his pained expression as he came back to reality. "Just thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks, Sam," Steve forced a weak smile, trying to look at least somewhat better than he felt. "I'd like to say I have a good feeling about this place, but…"

"I get it, it's fine. I think we're all feeling that. So what's the plan once we touch down?" Sam asked as he turned to look at Natasha as she started to land, figuring it was going to be the same as usual, but that didn't mean he shouldn't ask. Everywhere they'd been going, the plan was for him to take to the skies whilst Natasha and Steve took the ground, and it hadn't worked yet but it was the best they had. He'd searched for Bucky before with Steve, he was hoping having Natasha there was going to make it a lot easier this time, but so far it was feeling pretty familiar. When Bucky Barnes didn't want to be found, the man was amazing at disappearing. He just had to hope that Natasha's contacts were better at finding people than he and Steve were. "Has anyone here ever been to Dubai before?"

"Twice, but they were for very different reasons. Now, I'm going to send you all a map of the city, the red areas are businesses and homes of people that we know of that have been known to deal with Hydra. It could be completely the wrong direction, and with a city with this much money in it, it makes people easier to hide," Natasha said, keeping her eyes on the task, bringing the quinjet to a soft landing on the tarmac before turning to look at the two tired looking men behind her. She was trying to act as hopeful as possible, knowing how much this was hurting Steve, but she felt exhausted as well, and less optimistic as time passed.

"Where is the best for you to work, Sam? Why don't you take everything from here southwest? There's some red buildings along there," Steve had brought up the map on his phone, holding it so the other two could see it as well. "Nat, if you go North, can you check the airport up there? And that leaves us with about the same amount of places to check out. I can take the shore in to that highway, lots of hotels and wealth around there. Actually, Nat, what am I thinking, you've been here, so take the area you're more comfortable with, if there's a difference. I'm fine with either."

"I'll actually take the north, I've been there both times I was here, I know a few hiding spaces," Natasha said as she went to the armoury in the quinjet, taking out a few guns and blades that she could carry on her. She wasn't about to face people who might be Hydra unarmed, or Bucky if he'd truly gone insane, though she really hoped it would only be the former that she'd need to fire on. Though, she couldn't hesitate about Bucky either if he made a move against them, she was well aware of how dangerous he was, and she couldn't trust that a wounding shot would actually do enough to stop him.

Steve watched the others suit up, Natasha with her weapons, and Sam with his wings, staring down at the faded blue jeans and tight black t-shirt he'd chosen for himself. This wasn't a mission for Captain America, it was Steve Rogers' duty to find his husband and bring him back, though he had borrowed just the shield to help him along the way. The road to Bucky hadn't been a peaceful one, they'd encountered their fair share of conflict along the way, and they had to expect more as they continued to look for him. Steve couldn't assume that any part of this was going to be easy, hell, he didn't know if he was going to have to fight Bucky again when he found him again, and the thought was enough to make him sick.

"I'm good to go," Steve said, picking up his shield after pocketing his phone, taking one of the radios that fit covertly in his ear. "I'll report in with any sightings or clues, but I'm going to keep the line clear otherwise." It was the nicest way Steve could think to say that he didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment, he felt drained enough without trying to come up with small talk.

"Steve," Natasha said, her voice warm as she stepped forward to take his hand, giving it a squeeze as she looked up at him. She'd known Steve for a while now, but this was the first time that she'd ever looked into his eyes and found that they truly looked his age. "If this isn't the place, this isn't the end. I promised you, I'm not going to stop, Sam's not going to stop, we're going to find him."

"Thanks, maybe this will be the place, maybe this is it," Steve said as he smiled weakly at the other two, turning to leave the quinjet as the false grin fell from his face, his expression completely grim by the time he was on the ground. He wasn't optimistic, he was afraid, and he wasn't about to share that with the others.

Wearing a green shirt, jeans, and a Real Madrid hat he'd stolen a few cities ago, a backpack over one shoulder, Bucky stepped off the commuter train and into the bright sun of Dubai. Taking his sunglasses off the brim of his hat, he slipped them back on as he wove through the crowd, heading towards an affluent part of the city called Emirate Hills. He might not stand out in a busy train terminal, but he knew he was going to once he got into the wealthier areas of town. That's when it was essential to fade in, but he shouldn't have much trouble with that, he made sure to have new, clean clothes for each job, he didn't want to stick out as the man covered in blood. He already had a change in this backpack, though he had no where to go after this, one more kill and his mission was done. Though he had no idea of where he was going to go after that, he would have to see how he felt once this was over, he just knew he was going to have to get out of here fast.

The few months or so had been an absolute blur for Bucky, most of it had felt like a dream, a haze over the memories of killing the men from the ledger, but only after he asked them who had owned the ledger first. That name was the only part of his memories, the faces of the many men he'd taken out had just blended together, he couldn't begin to tell how he'd killed which ones, with only a few exceptions. The first, George Noonan, Bucky had wept killing him, though it wasn't for the old man that he cried, but the realization of what he was beginning by taking out the men written in that book. Time and disease had already saved some of them from him, because he showed no mercy on the ones who were still living their lives. He'd torn through his list already, he'd blown out their brains and snapped their necks after inflicting enough pain that they would tell him what he wanted, ignoring their apologies and cries for mercy. He'd finished with them, and now here he was only had one name left. The last words every other man on that list.

Ilya Tochitskiy.

He was a man in his early eighties, a wealthy former owner of a cutting edge robotics company who had retired a few years back, now choosing to spend his autumn years in the comfort of his home in Dubai. From the information Bucky had been able to find on him, he was known as a humanitarian, but he'd been investigated in the past about under the table dealings, though he'd come through the allegations squeaky clean. He'd done business all over the world, he had contacts with some of the leading CEOs and politicians, even to that day. He may have bowed out of position with his company, but that didn't mean he wasn't still making deals, though Bucky doubted they had anything to do with robotics. Tochitskiy had retired immediately after he'd escaped Hydra, that was something that stuck out in his mind, as well as the fact that his old arm could have been made by the monster. That's probably how he first gained access to Bucky, that's how this began.

And Bucky knew exactly how this was going to end.

He'd foregone the gun, leaving it behind in a Tokyo bathroom garbage when he finished his last hit, deciding that he wanted to take a much more physical approach with Tochitskiy. He didn't care how old the man was, after all he was a hundreckyd himself, and Tochitskiy was still young enough that he'd sold Bucky to the highest bidders just a few years before. He wouldn't get any mercy from him, Bucky didn't care that he had two dozen grandkids or that he donated an entire wing for cancer patients in Moscow, he was going to pay for what he started. He knew from the other men that he killed that not all the money had gone to Hydra, that Tochitskiy kept a cut of it, and after Bucky had added all the figures up, that meant a very sizeable amount of cash. His robotics company may have made him millions, but so did whoring out an unwilling Bucky, and he wasn't going to let that old bastard spend one more day in his beautiful house. He wasn't spending tonight lying on silk sheets in the comfortable bed he helped pay for. Maybe if he was feeling generous, he'd throw his body onto it.

Bucky had already memorized the address, it was in a gated community, but that shouldn't pose any major problems. The walls weren't overly high, and Tochitskiy's house didn't back onto a major street, he should be able to get right into his back yard and into his house before the old man even knew anything was amiss. He'd already counted on him having a security system, maybe even guards, but he had to be prepared for any scenario he could come across. He didn't plan for this to be a quick in and out job, he had every intention of making this last, he wasn't going to end this even if Ilya Tochitskiy begged him to. He was going to suffer to the last, Bucky was going to make sure of it.

Every time he thought about what he was about to yet again, he had to remind himself that he was almost finished, and he was going to put an end to Tochitskiy, the man who brought all this into Bucky's life. The men he'd already taken out were bad people, but this old man was the worst of them all. In a matter of minutes, he was going to be free from the burning anger and disgust, and then maybe he could go back to his life, maybe then he'd be able to build his life with Steve back again. Something deep inside him told him it wasn't going to be quite that easy, however. He'd done so much work alongside Steve to move on from what he'd done as the Winter Soldier, and now here he was again. Maybe he hadn't been doing as well as he'd hoped for,

Quickly checking the map on the phone he'd lifted off of one of the men he'd killed, Bucky took a left on the street up ahead of him, following the edge of the wall as he counted the houses. He only had to go eight places in, though the size of the mansions meant it took him even further from the main street. That worked just fine for Bucky, it meant he only had to watch the smaller side one before he could jump in and scale the wall, heading over it and landing into the yard with little effort. No security yet, but he was ready for anything that presented itself as he drew a large knife from his backpack, wishing he had something bigger and more intimidating. It would do, though, it was just for any men or dogs that happened to appear. He had much more specific plans for Mr. Tochitskiy, he wasn't going to make death nearly so easy on him.

Punching through the glass door at the back of the house, Bucky pushed aside the drapes and stepped into the house, ignoring the sound of the alarm as he went to find the man who had profited off him enough to afford a place like this.

Walking through his patrol area, Steve's mind was back on when he and Sam were searching for Bucky alone, the helpless feeling of coming up empty again and again. This just felt like that all over again, only this time it was his husband that was missing, and he knew for a fact that he wasn't coping with everything okay. Bucky was a mess the last time he'd seen him, and there was no way he was going to be doing any better now, he needed to be home with Steve so they could begin to deal with everything he'd been put through. He needed love and stability, not to be hellbent seeking revenge all over the planet, he was never going to find peace in this mission of his, and the longer it lasted, the more afraid Steve was for Bucky's sanity. He had to get him home, and soon, before any of the mental and emotional damage because irreparable, if it already wsn't.

It was hard to pay attention to what he was was supposed to be looking for, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Bucky, he kept getting his hoped up at every glint of metal that caught his eye. It all seemed so pointless, trying to find one man who didn't want to be found anywhere in the world, but at the same time he wouldn't allow himself to give up for a second. Steve wasn't even sure if they were in the right place, they'd ended up in many places where there'd been no trace of Bucky at all, or they'd arrive just in time for the body of his victim to turn up. There was no real reason to come here other than they hadn't yet, and Natasha was convinced that one of her contacts had seen a man matching Bucky's description get on a non-stop flight headed here. This wouldn't be the first wrong sighting if it came down to that, though, the same information had sent them to El Salvador and Beijing where there was no sign that he'd ever even been there. It wasn't a perfect system, but it was all they had at the moment, and Steve wasn't about to bad mouth Natasha's contacts, not when he couldn't do any better himself.

The area Steve was in was a nice one, he'd have appreciated it a lot more if he wasn't as worried as he was, but even then he had to admit the odd fancy car was catching his attention here and there. His eyes's looked over at a really expensive looking blue car that he hadn't seen before, pulling onto the street ahead of him, following it with his eyes along the wall as he suddenly spotted a hand disappear over the edge. It had only been there for a moment, if he'd have blinked, he would have missed it, but he knew what he saw, and he didn't think many burglars were going to be scaling and jumping off walls at this time. Whoever that was couldn't wait for the cover of darkness, meaning he was either in a hurry or he was impatient, and both of those things could describe Bucky based on the rest of his method of operation. Taking off down the street, he kept his eye on the place where he'd seen the hand, jumping up and climbing over the wall as the sound of broken glass followed by an alarm sounded through the neighbourhood. Even if this wasn't Bucky, he was stopping something bad from happening, he doubted that this was a case of someone forgetting their keys.

Stepping in through the broken glass door, Steve kept his shield up and ready for any blows he was going to come across, his eyes scanning for any trace of Bucky as he walked out of what looked like an entertainment room and into a hallway. Steve couldn't hear anything above the sound of the alarm as he moved from room to room, scanning for any sign of the intruder and finding nothing. Just as he wished he could shut that damn noise off, it came to an end, and though the silence seemed deafening for a moment, it was quickly brought to an end with a loud crashing sound from a room down the hall. Shield up, Steve ran down the hallway into a large office, where he found Bucky standing over an old man on the floor, blade drawn, and murder in his eyes.

"Bucky!" Steve called out, fighting every urge to run forward and tackle him in a hug, knowing that he wasn't in his right mind right now. "Bucky, come here, please, baby…."

"He did this! He did all of this, this was his idea!" Bucky snapped, burying his boot into the old man's stomach. "You did this to me!"

"Help! Help me, this man's insane!" the old man yelled in a thick Russian accent, blood running from his broken nose. "Captain America, help me! I'm an old man, I…"

"Fuck you, you old shit!" Bucky snapped, holding his knife up, ready to strike again.

"Bucky, stop it!" Steve stepped closer, taking a hand off the shield to reach out to his husband. "Baby, just listen to me, okay? Please just listen to me."

Bucky turned to look at Steve, still gripping Tochitskiy's arm and twisting it roughly until it made a sickening pop as it pulled away from the shoulder.

"It's him, Steve," Bucky said above the screams of Tochitskiy, dropping the wrist he was holding back down to the floor. "He's the one that came up with the idea, so Hydra paid him half for whoever he brought in. If you do the math for inflation, Ilya Tochitskiy made over two hundred and twenty million dollars on whoring me out for Hydra, and the same amount went to them to pay for whatever fucking evil they came up with for it. Are you really going to ask me to stop, Steve? Do you want to put yourself between me and him?"

"What would you do if I did?" Steve asked softy, looking into Bucky's eyes, not liking what he saw there. "Bucky, I'm not saying don't get revenge, but do you want to do it like this? You told me you were done with this."

"Yes, yes like this! I said I was done because I thought I knew all the horrors in my head, and I didn't! He is not getting away from me, and if you stand between us…" Bucky swallowed hard, staring into Steve's eyes. "…if you love me, you'll give this to me. You might look at this and see that I've regressed, Steve, but you've done enough for me that I give a damn about myself now, I care about what's happened to me, not just what I did to other people. If I still thought I wasn't worth saving, I wouldn't have done any of this, I would have just accepted it."

"Bucky…" Steve began, lowering his shield.

"Steve, saying that I've only been yours, that you're the only person I've been with, that meant something to me. That meant a lot to me, actually, and this man took that from me. We can say that you're the only one that counted, but that's not the same and you know it. Hydra took so much from me, and I can't go to every one of their houses and rip off their arms and kill them, but I can do it to these people. I can fight for myself, I can do something to make myself feel less helpless, I need this because I can't have what I really want most, just to be only yours," Bucky said, still standing over Tochitskiy, wavering on his feet, as he stared at Steve, looking like the little boy from deep in Steve's memories, wide eyed and scared behind his brave face. "Steve, I don't know what else to do…."

"Buck, baby…" Steve stepped forward, pulling Bucky into a tight embrace, closing his eyes as he buries his face against his husband's hair, basking in the moment as he just held him close. "You are mine, this guy can't change that, no one can change that, that is between us and us alone. You're my Bucky, and I love you, and god, I've missed you so goddamn much."

Bucky couldn't even respond, he just clung to Steve and kept his face buried in his shoulder, his body shaking as he wept against him. He felt like the anger inside him was starting to melt, falling apart as he felt himself crumbling against Steve. He forgot about Tochitshiy, about all the other men, and all that he could think of at the moment was Steve, everything beyond that was a blur. "I shouldn't have left you…"

"Don't…" Steve didn't want him to start piling regret on top of everything else, he wanted Bucky to feel better about himself, not worse. "I'm here now, I've found you, we can go home and start getting through all this. We have all the time in the world, baby, it's going to be okay."

"Get me off this floor! Call me an ambulance!" Tochitskiy yelled suddenly, grabbing Steve's leg with his good hand, trying to pull himself up. "Captain America, you wouldn't leave an old man on the floor like this. Call the ambulance, I'll say some young men broke into my house, no one has to know you were here."

Pulling Bucky away from the wrinkled hand, Steve had been ready to pull his leg back from the old man's grasp when he spoke, looking down at him instead. "So you would do us a favour then, is that what you're offering?" He asked coolly, staring into Tochitskiy's eyes as he clenched his teeth. "Considering what you did to my husband, I think you know you would have to do better than that."

"I can, I will, what do you want? You want this house? Cars? Money?" Tochitsky said, his face lighting up as he saw a way to solve this problem. "You say it and I can get you what you want, anything you want. Every offer will be considered."

Bucky stared at the old man, his eyes wide as a memory unlocked itself in his mind. "…every offer will be considered," he repeated slowly, staring down at the man as he plead for his life. "We don't care what you do to him as long as you pay for it. Every offer will be considered. You said it over, and over, and over…"

"You're looking at this the wrong way, this wasn't about me doing anything to you, it was just a way to make money," Tochitskiy said with a sigh, shaking his head as he looked up at Bucky with a nervous smile. "None of that was personal, not for me anyway, it was just business. I didn't seek you out specifically to hurt you. You were just convenient, and it was easy to see you as not being human, it was supposed to be victimless. They told me you would never remember."

"Shut up!" Bucky roared, dropping the knife to the floor with a clatter as he covered his ears, clenching his eyes shut. "Just shut the fuck up!"

"No one even knew your name, you didn't have one," Tochitskiy said, happy that his words were having their desired effect as he began to reach for the knife. "You were nothing."

"Stop it, now," Steve growled sternly, his eyes on the knife as well at Totchitskiy inched forward.

"Or what, Captain? The alarm went off, the police will be here soon, if your Bucky wants to walk out of this a free man, he has to know the details of the deal. I don't want him thinking he's worth more than he is," Tochitskiy's fingers were nearing on the blade now, his eyes on Bucky who was still trying to shut the man's voice out. "Just tell me how much it would cost to buy you again and we can get this over with."

Lunging the last few inches to grab the knife, with every intention of cutting Bucky's achilles tendon to bring him to the ground, Tochitskiy's fingers found the handle just as Steve's boot stomped down on them. Screaming in pain, Tochitskiy withdrew his hand as Steve's hand swooped in, picking up the heavy blade and clutching it tightly against his palm. In that moment, all Steve could feel was burning hatred, his eyes meeting the old man's as Tochitskiy's expression went from cocky and in control to an afraid and feeble old man.

"Captain America…you're a hero, you wouldn't hurt me…my age, you wouldn't attack a senior citizen…" Tochitskiy begged weakly, putting his good hand up to surrender.

"It's Steve," Steve replied cooly, swinging the blade out in one fluid motion, slicing through Tochitskiy's neck with one clean motion, opening up the wrinkled skin of his neck to a torrent of red. "And I would do anything for Bucky, including finishing you off."

Tochitskiy grasped at his throat, trying to hold the flaps of skin together to contain all the blood that gushed forward, not realizing it was all in vain as Steve's strike had severed the artery completely, carving deep into his neck. It didn't take long for the lack of blood and oxygen to his brain to knock Tochitskiy out cold, and not much longer than that to kill him. As the blood flowed from the massive wound, it was absorbed by the thick white carpet, saturating it and turning it a brilliant scarlet to match Tochitskiy's gold robes.

"….I'm sorry…" Steve said as he stood still over the body, an arm around a shocked Bucky. "That was your kill, not mine, I shouldn't have done that."

"You did it for me…" Bucky replied, still staring down at the dead man at their feet, his last words echoing in his head still.

"I would do anything for you," Dropping the bloody knife on the floor, he hugged Bucky closer, protecting him between his shield and his body. "I love you, baby, no one is ever going to talk to you like that again. You are worth everything, more than money can buy, and you've always been Bucky Barnes, you've never been no one. You were always my Bucky, waiting for me, you just had a long, hard wait until I could find you again."

Bucky could only nod to that, closing his eyes and burying his face against Steve's neck as he felt the rest of his tension leave him. It was over, it was all over, and as relieved as he was that those men didn't exist any more, he couldn't help but be disappointed by the lack of comfort he felt. He thought ending them would end everything else, that the overwhelming feelings would disappear and take all the anger and hurt with them. He was so frustrated that all he could do was laugh weakly as his heart felt like it was as torn and bloody as Tochitskiy's throat.

"Baby, what is it?" Steve asked as he heard the strange laughter coming from his husband, surprised to hear Bucky laughing, even if it didn't sound right.

"…can…can we go home and discuss it?" Bucky blinked away tears, drying his eyes on the shoulder of Steve's shirt. "I just want to go home."

"Then we'll go home right now," Steve nodded, holding Bucky close as he touched the radio in his ear to contact the others. "I found him, we're coming back to the quinjet now." He didn't need to tell the others about Tochitskiy, not now anyway, because that wasn't what was important to Steve at the moment. The only thing that mattered to him was getting Bucky home where he wanted to be, where he could feel safe, and maybe together they could begin to move on from this the way Bucky had started with everything else Hydra did to him.

"…do the others…?" Bucky asked weakly, his voice muffled against Steve's skin.

"No, I wouldn't do that to you. They think you were tortured," Steve answered, turning to lead Bucky away from the body, He wasn't sure if the authorities were really coming or not, but it would be best to get out of there anyway.

"Thank you," sighed Bucky, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned agains his husband. "…I don't know what I'm doing, Steve, I'm such a mess, this didn't make things better or easier, they just…kept us apart."

"And it's not going to any more," Steve said with determination, reaching down with his right hand to take Bucky's, his thumb running over his husband's wedding band. "We're together now, and I'm keeping us that way. I'm going to look after you, Buck, I'm not giving up on you for a second. We're a team, like we've always been."

Keeping an arm around Bucky tightly, Steve lead him out of the dark house and back into the sunlight. They may have some questions to answer on the quinjet with the others, but Steve could take care of that. All that mattered to him right now was Bucky, and doing what needed to be done for him, everything else didn't even begin to register in his mind. He would lie to their friends, he'd drop everything and search the world, he'd kill an old man for hurting him and implying he was nothing, anything for his Bucky. Anyone who ever came between then was going to pay dearly, he would see to it himself.

Because, to Steve Rogers, his only duty was to his husband.


	6. Brooklyn

When Steve got Bucky home, he brought him straight to their bedroom to get out of his dirty clothes and into the shower, throwing out the filthy garments he'd been going around in for ages as Bucky scrubbed himself clean. He'd managed to shower sometimes in the last few months, usually in the homes of the men he killed, but those had been quick in and out job, not a proper soak under hot water with his own shower gel and hair products. By the time he was done, his skin was red from scrubbing, and his hair was conditioned, lying slick and flat on his head. Picking up his toothbrush, he brushed them three times, wanting his mouth to feel as fresh as the rest of him, and finishing it off with some mouthwash before he wound a towel around his waist and headed out into the bedroom he shared with his husband.

He'd timed it perfectly, as Bucky was coming out of the bathroom, Steve was coming in with a tray of food loaded down with spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and salad. He'd ordered it from a place nearby, one of Bucky's favourites, and he'd made sure to get extra orders of everything in case Bucky was as hungry as he assumed he would be. Steve doubted he'd kept up with eating the entire time he was gone, he likely ate the bare minimal of what he had to to stay alive, so he was going to have to stuff him full of food now. As Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and dug in, Steve picked up the brush and a hair elastic from the dresser, taking a seat behind his husband and brushing his hair back into a neat bun. He'd missed little things like this so much, he had no idea how much he loved doing Bucky's hair until he was gone, but he promised himself he was going to appreciate them more from now on.

After he'd eaten, and practically licked the plate, Bucky crawled into bed naked, pulling the blankets up as he got comfortable for the first time in months. Steve, who had yet to touch his own meal sitting over on the dresser, slid under the covers beside his husband, gathering him in an embrace. It didn't take long for Bucky to drift off with his head against Steve's chest, only a few minutes, and he slept soundly as Steve rubbed his back in slow circles. He didn't know if Bucky would have nightmares or not, they hadn't talked about it, but he was going to stay with him all the same. Steve knew when Bucky needed him, and this was definitely one of those times. He could easily put Bucky's needs ahead of his own for now, he'd find time for himself later, when he could trust that Bucky was going to be okay on his own.

"Mmhm…" Bucky grunted as he finally felt himself rising out of sleep, his brain still foggy as he lifted his face from Steve's chest, too out of it to be embarrassed by the drool he left there. "Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck?" Steve said as he snapped out of his own slumber, guilty that he'd passed out until he saw the time on the clock. "We slept nearly fourteen hours, apparently. Are you okay though? Did you dream?"

"I dreamed…still bad stuff…" Bucky said softly, resting his cheek where it was before, closing his eyes as his head swam. "I still see them in my dreams, I haven't been able to fight them off. I thought they would go away when I finished with them but…"

Steve hugged Bucky tightly, rubbing his back again, before he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, taking a deep breath of the scent of his hair. He'd missed that so much, it just wasn't the same to buy a bottle and sniff that, it was something more than shampoo and conditioner that he could detect.

"I don't know when they're going to go away, baby," Steve said softly, his hand moving up between Bucky's shoulder blades to massage his muscles there. "We can talk to someone if you want. You don't have to, though."

"I don't think I can, I think I need this to stay between us, I can't look someone else in the eye and tell them what happened," Bucky's voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, though it was easy for Steve to hear the strain in it.

"No one's going to make you, I promise. This is staying between us until you're absolutely sure of it otherwise," promised Steve, feeling like he couldn't do more than say that. He knew how upset Bucky was, he'd just gone on a killing spree of his abusers, it wouldn't be a good idea to push him at all. "Bucky…what do you want to do for this? What do you think our first step should be?"

"I don't know…I don't know, Steve, it all seems fucking wrong, it's like wading out into a whirlpool or something," Bucky shook his head, bringing his hand up to wipe his eyes. "I feel like whatever I do, it's going to suck me in and pull me under and I won't be able to escape or cope with it. I'll just drown."

"That's why we need a plan, baby, so if you do fall, I can pick you up and put your back on course. I don't for a second think that this is going to be an easy process. This is going to take a lot of time and effort, but we're going to make sure we make this our top priority for as long as we can," Steve said softly, his hand moving up to stroke Bucky's hair, still mostly secure in the bun from before.

"I guess my first step is leaving this room again," Laughing weakly, and without humour, Bucky nuzzled Steve's chest. "And don't tell me there's a step where I have to be honest and tell everyone because that's never happening. This secret dies with us, there's no one left who knows."

"There aren't any steps that you really don't want to do, I'm not going to force you into doing anything you're not ready for. Besides, you just got home, I think everyone will understand if you hang out in here for a few days," Steve smiled, wrapping both arms around Bucky to pull him in a close embrace. "And I know they'll understand that I'm staying in here with you."

Bucky snuggled up against Steve, wrapping a leg over his as he drew closer. He knew Steve was being honest with him, he always was, it was one of the reasons his amateur therapy sessions with him always worked so well. He knew that anything Steve said was going to stay between them, and that everything he said to him came from a place of truth and love.

"I don't know if this is going to go like last time, I don't know if I'm going to be able to make progress at the same pace, I feel differently about this. There's some things in common with this, but…" Bucky trailed off, blinking as he ran his metal hand over Steve's stomach and back around his side. "I'm really overwhelmed, I think that's the best way to put it."

"How did we start last time?" Steve asked, folding his hands on Bucky's shoulder as he held him close, looking down at him as best he could before kissing the top of his head again.

"We talked. We just laid in bed like this and we talked, and we'd take breaks to eat, sleep, that kind of thing. You even insisted on showering with me, not that I'm going to complain about that. You just made me feel really loved and comfortable, it made saying all those terrible things I did easier," Bucky said, his voice small and quiet.

"Bucky, you didn't-"

"I know, I know…things still aren't perfect with me yet, I'm trying," sighed Bucky, scolding himself mentally. He was trying his best to make Steve proud with his progress, but he didn't get it right every day. It was partially why he was so worried about adding all this stress with what was done to him on top of his missions as the Winter Soldier. He struggled enough with one, he didn't know what he was going to do with twice the stress on his mind.

"It's not a competition, you're not doing badly, I'm just reminding you," Steve kept his voice calm and soft as he always did, not wanting Bucky to get the feeling that he was in any trouble. He kept thinking that he should get into reading books about therapy, but he didn't want to make the wrong step and make Bucky worse. There's no way he could never forgive himself if he hurt his husband. He wished Bucky would just go to a professional, but he dug his heels in every time Steve brought it up. He had to wonder if it was a product of their time, that Bucky admitting he needed to go to a doctor for his brain meant he was weak, or crazy. There were only so many things about the future that Bucky accepted immediately.

"…what if I can't do this? That has to be a possibility, we can't ignore it," Bucky said, his shoulders sinking as the idea burrowed further into his head. He didn't want to admit defeat, he had no plans on give up and stop fighting, but the thought that he could do everything in his power and still fail was making him feel ill.

"Worst case scenario, you mean? If you can't beat this, then you can stay in this room, or whatever other home we're in, and I will take care of you," Steve said casually, shrugging a little as if this was the simplest thing in the world. "I'll take care of everything you can't, I'll bring food, I'll get you clothes, or books, or anything else, and you can stay where you're comfortable. You don't have to leave or do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you have me and I will do absolutely anything for you."

"Steve, you don't want to do that…" Bucky said, shaking his head.

"I do want to do that. It makes as much sense as you looking after me when I had pneumonia, or rubella, or mumps, you risked yourself to take care of me. Only I'm not risking my life to do this, I'm just spending my time, and there's nothing else I'd rather spend my time doing than being with the love of my life," Steve said with determination, wanting Bucky to know just how deeply he meant that.

Bucky laughed a little, though it sounded more sad that anything. "You won't give up, will you? You're so fucking stubborn…"

"Yeah, well, I learned from the best," Steve said, stroking Bucky's hair lovingly. "I think we both have to admit we're a pair of stubborn old men."

"As long as we're not so set in our ways that we just complain about everything new. Remember Mr. Hapner, that old guy that sat in the park under 'his' tree?" Bucky asked, smiling a little at the memory. It was almost eighty years ago, but it felt like yesterday. "He'd sit there with his arms crossed, looking at the kids in the park, complaining that kids these days were spending too much time playing, and that radio was polluting minds, and that young people read too much…"

"No, we're not going to be Old Mr. Hapner, he was a jerk," Steve laughed, kind of glad that he had, it felt nice to after so long. "I remember he hated me because I was always sitting on the park bench and drawing."

"Well he just hated my face then, he used to just give me looks whenever I walked near him. He probably knew I was after you or something, didn't like the whole gay thing," Bucky said softly as a thought occurred to him. "Or he was jealous. I don't think he was ever married, he could have been like us."

"His time wouldn't have been about the same as ours for that. I mean, I think I'd be an old asshole if I had to live a lie for that long. It was hard enough to do it as long as I did pining over you…" Steve trailed off, happy that Bucky had changed the topic for a bit. It was a good sign that he could divert his attention to other things, even if it was just one old man in their past. It helped remind Steve that his Bucky was in there still underneath all this pain and hurt.

"…we should maybe go to his grave one day, wherever he's buried, I don't think anyone else would ever go. Just look him up, I think it was Leonard Hapner, maybe you could just use your phone or something. We can go to his grave, have a drink with him, the two young fellas that he used to glare a all the time, he's got to to love that," Bucky said, taking a deep breath as he actually thought about it, closing his eyes as he felt himself start to tear up. The thought of going out seemed so easy when he first mentioned it, but the more he thought about it now, the worse it felt.

"We can do that, as soon as you're ready, we'll get a nice aged Scotch and find Mr. Hapner's grave. And if he's just got a number marker or something, we'll get him a proper headstone," Steve murmured, about to reach for his phone to see if he could look up where Mr. Hapner was on his own before he felt something wet against his chest. Frowning, he brought his hand back up to pet Bucky's hair, his other arm wrapping around the man tightly.

"Steve, I can't do it…" Bucky said in a whisper, feeling utterly weak and useless.

"Yes, you can," Steve wasn't going to let Bucky slide back down into depression. "Bucky, pick a day, based on how you feel right now, choose a day that you think you can go out on."

"…what if I can't go on that day?" Bucky asked, closing his eyes, not sure where Steve was going with this.

"If you can't go out on that day, then we put it off, we pick a new day, like how you reschedule anything, but it gives you something to work towards. It gives you something to build yourself up to, but if you can't do it, then we pick a new day until you are ready," Steve explained, picking up his phone off the nightstand, and opening up the calendar. "Today is Tuesday the fifth, you can pick any day you want. This is completely up to you."

"Steve, I don't know if this is going to work…" Bucky started before thinking it over for a moment. Steve was "…okay, we'll try it your way, see what happens. I'm going to pick…the tenth. Sunday."

"Sunday it is, then," Steve said, a little worried that this process was the wrong way to go about things, but it was the best he could do with what he had to work with. "I'll order that Scotch, we'll take a car, is there anything else you wanted to do on this trip? Maybe he'll be in the same graveyard as our parents. We can bring some flowers. And the Scotch, too, our dads would appreciate that. ."

Bucky thought it over for a moment, trying to think of something that could possibly make him excited about this trip, other than the thought of doing something to make Steve proud of him. He thought about the places they usually went if they headed to Brooklyn, the restaurants, the parks, Coney Island, but none of it seemed right for Sunday.

"You think we could go to our old neighbourhood? See what's still standing? School, church, our old homes, all of that…kind of fits in with Mr. Hapner and our parents," Bucky asked softly, smiling weakly at the memories he had of Brooklyn, as a child and as a young man. "…it might sound stupid, Steve, but this helps. Just talking about random shit from our past. Not that I'm saying then was better than now, because now I get to have you, and we get to be married, and nothing can beat that. But talking about that stuff, it's like it's making my brain work in that part of my memories, and the others aren't quite so loud."

"I think I get that, Buck, that makes sense to me," Steve said, nodding a little to himself. Finally, something that might help, he wished Bucky had said this long ago. He knew his husband couldn't help it, he didn't exactly always know what helped him either, and if he did, it seemed he was reluctant to burden Steve with his findings. It was one of the reasons he could be so hard to help, but that didn't mean he would ever give up on him for a second. Bucky was difficult, but he was Steve's Bucky completely. "…so, Brooklyn on Sunday, then?"

Bucky tilted his head to look up at Steve, his expression still looking exhausted from so many months on the run, and gave him as warm a smile as he could manage with the horrors churning in his head. But among all the hurt and anger, it was like someone had thrown down a lifeline, a thin gold rope that cut through the storm with Steve on the other end ready to pull him up. It wasn't enough to destroy what Hydra had done to him, but it was something, it was a moment that they couldn't poison.

"Brooklyn on Sunday," Bucky repeated softly before tugging Steve down into a tender kiss.


End file.
